At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, May 23, 2016


Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night and realize that the one thing missing in your life, the howling absence of which makes you incomplete and fills you with existential angst, is kitten pictures. "Life would be good", you say to yourself, "if there were kitten pictures."
You lament the lack of them, which wounds you.
They are important.

Dread. Depression. Despair. Dismay. Gloom. Mood swing. Neurotic worry. Psychosis. Sad. Unhappiness. Utter sense of loss. Wailing.

I may have been guilty of causing all that. Three days ago I promised kitten pictures, and failed to deliver. For which I apologize.

Here they are.

You probably realize that I also wake up in the middle of the night, and that that too can be accompanied by 'realizations'. One not uncommon realization is that I shouldn't have eaten something, and another one is that comment strings are often schizophrenic, and, if that was just one voice underneath that article, it would reflect several different voices.

"Life is a parade of absurdities and pain, and then we die, alone, in filth. So, yes, little girl, I shall buy a box of Thin Mints."

------Werner Herzog

The middle of the night is the time to shoo the animals off the bed and hug a naked person, if you have either of those two things in your life, and if not, to drink a nice hot cup of cocoa while reading a book by Stephan Pastis or Bud Grace.

The Girl Scout Cookies are all gone.

There are no more.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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