The Soul of the Slobbering Hound

Whole weeks go by and the words don’t come, but bark instead from the cavernous deep of my longing, of my confusion, of my loved and lost, of my ambition and inadequacy, of my dying, of my fear, of my disgust. Barking like slobbering hounds, ungrateful for the opportunity I’ve given them to live again, to be reborn, but no. They are creatures of habit, these dogs, these thoughts, this heart of mine. It wants what it had, and only when it gets it will it start wanting everything else as well.

Thursday

never give up

Walking past a storefront, I see a magnet:
“'Never, never, never give up.’ – Winston Churchill.”
I go inside, pick up the magnet, go to the counter.
I wait.
Three shopkeepers, three people ignoring me.
They walk past me. They talk to each other. They answer the phone. They talk to other people.
I look at the magnet.
“Never, never, never give up.”
Who am I kidding?
I drop the magnet. Pick up my bag. Walk out

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