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The Demiurge

I love you ferociously,
as the tidal wave loves the shore.

But I can't promise you I won't be swallowed up by the horizon.
Be heartened,
I have spread my love thin
over this illustrious orb.
Look for me in arias, in dumpster diving sirens.

Turn your ear to the ocean.
For I will hide my love for you in whale song.

Yes, in the green pastures and floral bouquets,
beautiful things.
But also in the smell of a shorn pencil, and in larks,
in plumage of all size and color.

On Election Day 2004, I didn't cast a vote for President of the United States. I voted for every other position on the ballot, but with regards to who I thought the President should be, I abstained. I was not comfortable with any of the candidates. I didn't like any of them as a person, let alone a leader. I did not believe in choosing the least of several bad choices, so I chose not to choose at all. It was the first time since I reached voting age that I did not cast a ballot for this position.

This year was different. There were two people that I liked for different reasons. The other candidates didn't pique my interest, but these two did. I didn't know until the day before which one of the two I would ultimately choose. I liked that there were candidates running that made me want to dig in further to research past all the media hyper-analysis and political preening and posturing. If I could have cast a separate vote for Vice President, it would have been a tougher decision for me. I'm not entirely sure it would have been different, just more difficult.

This was the first time my youngest could vote. He was ecstatic his first vote would be cast in a presidential election. He took a shower, put on a good shirt and was waiting for me just inside the door when I got home from work. It's good to see him excited. It feels good that this year, there was no apathy.

This year, it's different. This year, it just feels good.

Soon I am going to the US of A again. This time I'm going to Texas, the Lone Star State. That's going to be awesome. I arrive in Dallas on the 17th of November, and leave on the... 2nd of December. Two whole weeks of Texassing. I am definitely buying meself a real cowboy hat.

On another note my siblings and I just readied our mother's new apartment. Or rather: her room in the senior citizen's home, where she likely will stay for the rest of her days. It's all her own stuff, as opposed to where she has been staying these last five months. There isn't a lot of space in this new place compared to her old apartment, so we had to limit ourselves. We decided to almost exclusively bring older things; things we think she'll remember. We all agree that we have managed to turn the 30 square metres into a very nice and homely place. I just hope she'll feel the same way. None of us will be able to be there when she moves in today, so we won't know for a few days yet.

It was weird going through her things, deciding what to bring and what not to bring. I think the worst thing was her books. She had some 1200 books of all kinds, and we took with us 300. The rest had to go. I just hope the next persons to come into the garbage container room see them, and take some home.

The apartment we cleaned out was never our home, which made it a lot easier on us. Still... It was odd.

A lot of love went into arranging the furniture, hanging the pictures, putting the books on her shelves, and placing her little porcelain cats in nice tableaus. I wound up her wall clock - which promptly started to strike the hour with resounding DONGGGGs. I had to reach in and grab the 'bell-rods' until it was done making noise. And then I stopped the clock. I'm going to let the staff in the home deal with that!

Before leaving the room I turned and looked, and thought: "This is good. This is as nice as I would want it, when my time comes."

Maybe I'm the one who tried to kiss you, but you're the one who sat down on the fucking statue.

You think I'd throw away all this amazing friendship shit just for the boon of fucking us up for another 6 months? You think I want something from you other than exactly what you've been giving me all this time? You think punishing me is going to make either of us happier?

Get this into your fracking head: It's not the love that hurts, it's the missiles you catapult into my veggie garden.

While you're about it, I'll get this into mine: No more Gen Y chicks, period.

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