Jaded Ennui Incorporated Blog

It's hard to be optimistic these days. The sky is blue and it is a noisy and flowering spring. And yet something hangs in the air. The wind is whispering something I can't understand. I have a recurring dream of my friend's father's memorial service. And each time it is different. The last time, the widow refused to provide food. We made a mad dash to the grocery store but it was pouring rain. The streets were flooded. So I picked up my friend by the back of her sweater and I flew us over the water. Flew. Somehow. Not wings flapping but flying nonetheless. Gritty flying. Hard flying. Ugly flying. But flying.

Somewhere I'm an optimist. But it's hard these days.