Stuff and Nonsense

More and more I believe Irony is the driving force behind our reality, like how time soars on the wings of a big fat owl when you’re having fun and then crawls over razor blades and busted glass when you’re at work. Like today – feast or famine, rain or shine, fiddle or fart. The morning started packed with work to do, which is good, and lots of phone calls, which is the opposite of good, which is to say bad. Then all the databases quit responding, to which I said “At least now I can focus on the phone calls.” Then people quit calling.

Now here I sit staring at cyberspace thinking of all the horrific things I could do to myself with the stuff within arm’s reach: staple my ears to my skull, tie off my fingers with rubber bands until they wither and drop like fall leaves, pierce my nipples with the staple remover, plunge my color coordinated pen set into my eyes, etc., etc., blasé skippy tally-ho. Because if I didn’t have my hobbies, I could go insane.

I tell you, irony can be pretty ironic at times. Nothing to do now but write poetry and question the deeper meanings of existence.

Why do I bother?
Giant Atomic Chickens
Will destroy us all.
(haiku!)

What difference does it make?

What difference does it make?

What difference does it make?

Good is bad, bad is good, all the stuff’s the same, out.