As i sit here in the local hot dog palace, enjoying two with chili, a side order of handcut fries and a birch beer, i pause to reflect on 2010, the year almost a memory, with considerable disdain. yet i hope. this curse to which we refer as optimism barely permits us a single, reasonable doubt as to the tenor of our every future day. but onward i press, ever toward my next disaster, last night panties bunching up between my cheeks — a spandex reminder of who i am inside. Neatly shaved legs, toenails painted pink in clandestine defiance of the expectations of manliness thrust upon me by society, i know next year will be a real triumph of spirit — less brutal, more kind. less alienation, more acceptance. more love, less hatred, and less violence. Why would we do this? hope. and evolution.
i was back in the marital bed the past few weeks, but to no avail. no touch, no cuddle, no kind words. so back upstairs again. hope.