I'm Alive

Right now, I feel as if I've been alive for just a few days. Not that I've been reborn, but more like I've risen from the dead. A death that, to me, was nothing more than a serious illness. A stagnant state of being to which I had consigned myself at one point. A death that I had surrendered to, come to terms with, and learned to accept. I have a faint recollection of the emotions that passed through me upon noticing the first signs of my flesh beginning to rot, and my gradual acceptance of this transition. Spending the rest of eternity in my coffin, just me and my putrid corpse. I don't know why. It's not like I've been depressed, or lonely, or anything like that. Just a feeling, like I was dead the other day, and now I'm walking around again for no reason at all.

It's not that I'm gullible...

When people tell outlandish stories, I am inclined to believe them. It's not that I'm gullible; it's cuz I've actually seen some really crazy shit out there. In fact, when I do tell stories of the crazy shit I've seen, people tend not to believe me.

Dreaming of Twins...

No, it wasn't a Doublemint commercial. These twins were about four or five years old, arguing with each other. They were calling each other names, and one of the twins called the other "aftabuh." After trying to figure out what he was saying, I realized that he called his twin an "afterbirth." The other twin said, "No, I'm not. I was born first. You're the afterbirth!"

Urban Beauty

The other day, I was walking down the street in Newark. As usual, I had my eyes fixed to the sidewalk below to avoid eye contact with the natives. I was also trying not to trip over the cracks and potholes, and the occasional condom or clump of dogshit. In front of a Baptist church, there was this one pigeon mozying towards the front steps, looking up in anticipation of a tasty morsel from a ragged old elf who looked like a dingier, overgrown version of a lawn ornament. The man leaned forward, brought his hands to his mouth, his fingers working carefully to avoid spilling any crumbs as his tongue came out to lick the gummed edge of the rolling paper... As my gazed returned to the sidewalk, the pigeon continued to shuffle left and right, positioning itself like an outfielder about to catch a fly ball.