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I was talking to a friend, yesterday, about how we are too afraid of sadness In response, another of my friends stormed through the room and declared angrily, "I'm happy all of the time." What a contradiction! However, it did get me to thinking. Was I wrong? Should we strive for unconditional happiness? Or was I right, is sadness a necessary part of existence?

I have chosen the later and I'll tell you why. They did a study with chimpanzees where they hooked electrodes up to their brains and then had a researcher be sad, happy or angry across from them. As the chimp watched, it's brain lit up in exactly the same patterns as it would when the chimp itself was sad, angry, happy or angry. This is the basis of empathy. So imagine for a minute, that someone was incapable of having those electrodes firing (ie: was incapable of being sad). What a horrible person that would be? If they bumped you in the street and you fell over, they would not feel sorry for you. If they saw someone beaten and starving by the side of the road, they would not even think to stop.

We are sad sometimes, but this is not a bad thing. It is a sign that we are still human, still capable of knowing our own sorrow and knowing the sorrow of others... even if we would rather not.

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So, I have a child who is a little hypoglycemic, like me. How can I tell?

Kid: I want to have a car.
Me: Alright.
Kid: But I DON'T WANT A CAR!
Me: Alright, you don't have to have a car.
Kid: BUT I WANT A CAR!
Me: Okay...
Kid: I'm kind of hungry.
Me: Cookie?
Kid: ::munch, munch:: I LOVE YOU!
Me: (Familiar? No...)

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So, I came across my nanowrimo from 2011. I guess I hit a rough spot halfway through the month and valiantly tried to switch novels midstream. Talk about fat chance. Anyhow, I have been having some rough days and I was pleased to find this silliness all crammed together at the beginning. I hope you like it as much as I did.


     Clive looked both ways before he crossed the street. He knew he would have to do it again, before long, but he did so anyway. It is good to anticipate disaster, to a degree, especially when you are a snail. The ground went under his body, he felt the little pieces of gravel like a pumis stone on his pseudopod. He inched more and more along the street. Far above, the seagulls were flying. They were saying �caw� �caw� and trying to give some wisdom per the instructions of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. This story, and Clive had heard it, was a boring story about some bird who had wings and did not understand a single thing about what it was like to be a snail, although the people seemed to think it applied to them sure enough.

     �Excuse me,� one of the people said far above.

     �It�s alright,� Clive said in his snail voice, �I was just moseying along, don�t mind me.�

     �Oh, would you look at that,� said another of the people. He stopped and stared a moment from his high high height. A little girl in a flouncy dress stooped next to it as well, but the tall one told the little girl that they had to go and that he had a meeting.

     Clive did not understand these things called meetings, but he heard a lot about them. If snails ever wanted to meet� well it would take an awful long time, that�s all.

     Clive, in fact, was headed to a 'meeting' of his own. He dressed up in his Sunday best and headed across the road last week, in fact. His sweetheart, a Mrs. Julianna Novello, was waiting for him across the road in a little hallow log, but Clive knew that it would take him a little longer to get across the path and so he had encouraged her to go about her business and they would meet up at the spot whenever they could.


     I knew that something funny was happening when I saw pinstripes. Pinstripes are not exactly the best kind of fashion statement for mormagorgs on the best days, this was not one of those days. The streets were filled with cops and criminals, the smell of the sewers were flooding through the pipes, burping and belching with every step that I made. Even the gondalliers had decided that they should take the day off early.


     It was four o�clock on a Sunday afternoon and I started to feel a warm breeze coming in at me from the kitchen. At first, I was not sure how to feel about the rough fingers as they wrapped around my wooden stick. It was almost a thrill to be connected to this strange giant as he brought me closer and closer to his mouth. Then I started to perceived was about to take place.

     The gleaming white teeth bore down on me, the tongue writhing in his mouth like a snake, oozing its own slime. I could feel my skin melt in the 98.5 degree heat. My cherry deliciousness was sweeping away into nothing. Then there was a crunch. My whole body screamed, creaked and then collapsed against the fiercely gnashing yellow teeth. I shot back with my icy coldness, but it only took a moment longer before he was back on the hunt, biting and devouring me alive. Soon, I was nothing put a soggy stick, left limp in the creature�s mouth.

     �Do you want another one?� someone asked.

     �Sure,� boomed the voice all around me. He chucked me in the trash can. Just as the lid closed, I saw another of my friends, another of his victims, dive into his mouth.

     �No, not another one,� I wailed, but my soggy wooden voice fell on deaf ears. The massacre would continue, on an on, until all of the popsicle sticks were gone! Oh the humanity!


     Now, for something completely different.


     The receptionist picked up the phone, �I�m sorry, the line is rotting, may I help you?�

     �I�m sorry, but my dog ate your phone. I am calling you from the phone next door, do you think that you could bring up another one?�

     �Oh dear, your phone has been eaten? You do realize that our patented bananaphones are very expensive.�

     �Oh yes,� replied the woman on the other end, �but I�m afraid it was an accident. You see, I was not aware of your phones when I booked the hotel��

     �Oh, that is alright,� the receptionist replied, �I will charge that one to your bill and get another one sent up. Is that alright?�

     �I�d rather you didn�t,� the woman replied.

     �Well, then I highly recommend that you replace the phone before you leave,� the receptionist replied tersely, �And why do you think we are called the banana phone hotel if we don�t use banana�s for phones?�

     �I thought it was a clever joke, or that� maybe you would have plastic banana phones, not rotting edible ones.�

     �How absurd. Plastic banana phones?� the receptionists contradicted.

     �It is not absurd, all sorts of people have plastic phones,� the woman retorted.

     �Oh really? Well, maybe tacky people, but we don�t have that kind of kitsch here,� she declared. Just as she did so, she squeezed the banana too hard. It squeezed through her fingers. She sighed heavily, looking up at the new customer.

     �I�m sorry sir, how may I help you?� she asked.


     Three sloths sat in the tree, with their three toes on each of their three hands were attached to three limbs. The fourth limb of each of the three sloths were poised delicately in the air.


     Immomagram did not mean to destroy the flux time capacitor. It was entirely an accident on his part, and not even a small accident either. It was as if the whole world had been ripped apart and not even the ninjas knew how to hide from it and that is who you really had to be looking at was the ninjas� even if you couldn�t see them.

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Imagine we are all apples hanging out on the tree of life. One day, a great big black horse called Death rides up to this lovely bunch of apples and it picks one it wants to pluck off the branch. At first it just nibbles in sharp piercing stabs, but as it becomes more determined, it wraps it warm slavering mouth about the apple and starts yanking and pulling until, all at once, as though it got a bad taste in its mouth, it lets go. The apple has the joyous feeling of flying through the air, spittle flying off its shiny red surface into the sky until the pendulum of the branch swings back the other way and it is shaken vigorously, gasping for air.

This is a little bit what it is like to be sick with a 102.5 fever for two days. ...Bleh.

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"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
-W.H. Auden

2 Samuel 12:14-31

New International Version (NIV)

14 But because by doing this you have shown utter contempt for the LORD, the son born to you will die.�

15 After Nathan had gone home, the LORD struck the child that Uriah�s wife had borne to David, and he became ill. 16 David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackcloth on the ground. 17 The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them.

18 On the seventh day the child died. David�s attendants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, �While the child was still living, he wouldn�t listen to us when we spoke to him. How can we now tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.�

19 David noticed that his attendants were whispering among themselves, and he realized the child was dead. �Is the child dead?� he asked.

�Yes,� they replied, �he is dead.�

20 Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.

21 His attendants asked him, �Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!�

22 He answered, �While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, �Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.� 23 But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.�

24 Then David comforted his wife Bathsheba, and he went to her and made love to her. She gave birth to a son, and they named him Solomon. The LORD loved him; 25 and because the LORD loved him, he sent word through Nathan the prophet to name him Jedidiah.

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