Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

note to self

There is a blazer, hung atop an old oaken chair, which contains a folded up scrap of paper, with words written in an assortion of material, red, black, and blue ink, graphite, et cetera. Various words have been crossed out, signifying completion, for it is a list of tasks. These are among the many that aren’t crossed out:

  • Take out the trash.
  • Do some laundry, that shit is piling up.
  • Find a good way to incorporate the word “wanton” to conversation.
  • Restock fridge.
  • Use those running shoes that were bought months ago.
  • Renew Xbox Live membership.
  • Muster enough courage to ask train girl for her name.
  • Get out of the house a bit more. By a bit, I mean a lot.
  • Catch the upcoming Rilo Kiley show.
  • Stop feeling so lonely, and stop acting so bitter.
  • Read another book. It’s been months.
  • Remember, confidence!
  • Try being proactive around her, for once.
  • Call up friend-o’s for poker and burgers.
  • Stop being so paranoid. Take the risk, for once.
  • Buy some detergent. Running low.
  • Give up the lost cause, take up new ones.

That crumpled, ink-stained piece of paper is left within the blazer’s inside pocket, only to be taken out when needed, as a somewhat gentle reminder of things that need to be done.


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