Tag Archives: stuff

Nice to Meet You

Let me introduce myself.
Let me pick you up at seven.
Let me show you a good time.
Let me put my arm around you.
Let me drive you home.
Let me show you how to have fun on the way.
Let me watch tv.
Let me leave the seat up.
Let me eat.
Let me compliment you today.
Let me hold it all in.
Let me live.
Let me come home late sometimes.
Let me explain that.
Let me think.
Let me change the subject.
Let me pack my things.
Let me cry.
Let me say goodbye.
Let me lie.
Let me come back.
Let me talk through the door.
Let me introduce myself.
Let me drive you home again.
Let me come in.
Let me show you an even better time.
Let me say it wasn’t my fault.
Let me say I’m sorry.
Let me love you.
Let me have a second chance.
Let me hold your hand nine months from now.
Let me see them on the weekends.
Let me apologize.
Let me back in.
Let me learn from my mistakes.
Let me start over.
Let me introduce myself.

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“Without a door to open, the key to success is useless.”

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Keep Your Eyes on the Driver

you can tell a lot about a person just by taking a short drive with them. are they safe? do they take risks? are those risks calculated? do they ask you if you are hot/cold? or do they automatically turn the music down/change the station for you (because they’re embarrassed). when you’re cold, are they sweating because they turned the temperature up to make you happy? do they sing along? do they just focus on the road, or do they turn away from the windshield to look you in the eye? do they take the time to notice the sights and sounds? or are they distracted and text while drifting into another lane, and only correcting suddenly when you bring it to their attention? It doesn’t take long to notice that we’re not talking about driving anymore. That much is clear.

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Stop it, Pac-man! You’re doing it wrong!

 

 

 

pac man test_2

This is my first attempt at making an animated gif. Any technical advice would be greatly appreciated.
Sorry for ruining Pac-man.

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“It’s hard to frown when you make someone else smile.”

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Bottled Up

It’s been a while since I’ve rhymed.
I don’t know why, or what has sparked,
this need to can a moment’s time
and regimented meter in
a note-to-self; a bottle marked
“return to sender,” floated down
a river where the days begin
and end within the boundaries of
a winding predetermined path,
where by the night my note will drown,
an afterthought, a wing-clipped dove
consumed beneath the aftermath
of ebb and flow—of tides that stole
away with all my self-control.

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