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Along with Coda the Puppy passing, I’ve fallen to over parsing each particular of these damn days. And that serves to just piss one off.

I’m having nary a lick of fun, and the pandemic fallout has become increasingly fantastical. It feels all sick sit-com now, as each solution seems to complicate or agitate, test someone’s faith, or scare those sponsors footing the damn bill.

And the best laughs are given to the dullest characters, clueless to any irony and slow to the realization that the caustic has been intubated for at least a decade. Maybe two.

When did subtext become simultaneously, a shout and a secret. Both trigger and target.

But surely that’s just old man moaning about time passing. Fear being a precursor for folly, or the other way around.

I miss our dog. I miss the the fact, that right damn now, he is not laying on this indoor/outdoor rug. A purchase he had much to do with.

  1. I understand where you are. Six months later, I’m still there. There was a dog in my life. And nothing’s been right since she left.

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