Particular Moments

More Stars than There are

Tag: humor

A Dog Who Smells Like Fish

There’s a Joyous Dog next to me —

She smells like Fish
And the scent of Fresh Soil
After a good, long
Rainy Day.

Every paw-step she takes,
A rich breeze of Life

She likes to Chase,
And she likes to eat,
With a crazed gobbling,
That is.

I sense that
She is more Alive
Than the likes of me.


Have drunken
So Much


Black, White,
Creme filled,
Sugar loaded,
Or Chilled;

Even three days

That Coffee
Hated you?

Conversations: The Framed Portrait

“Is that…a picture of Hannah?” Looking at the picture, framed and airbrushed—all too formal for its intended purpose, whatever it might have been—you felt uneasy.

“Yeah, man.” He replied in a-matter-of-fact way.

“That’s interesting…hmm, *hmmphh—–hahaha…..oh gosh, Bryan” there was something about the portrait, enclosed by a wooden frame, that struck you as hilariously bizarre.

“What, is it not okay for me to have a picture of my girlfriend?” He joked, impersonating the shrilling tone of a stereotypical prick; however, he was obviously annoyed.


Your girlfriend. I’d imagine she’s more than that. 


You threw a more probing humor at him, “So, what’s this, some kinda trophy? Like a proud declaration saying, ‘Oh YES, I’ve got her. Yep, kept my eyes ON the PRIZE…Now she’s all MINE.’ Does that kinda-sorta represent the mentality behind this gesture?”

Whenever you decide to interrogate someone, to avoid being socially unacceptable, you always present your questioning in a nasty, comedic manner. In this case, you did your best to furnish your line with Le American Southern Twang (momentously lyrical and intoxicatingly addictive of an accent to listen to and practice with).

“Whatever. Look, this is what people do when they are in serious relationships.”

“Really? I thought that’s what people do when their daughters graduate from high school and leave the nest for a couple of years. You know, the glamour shot; close-up portrait and stuff like that; for glorified remembrance.”

“You are over thinking it, _______(place name here). It’s just a picture, like I have framed photos of my family.”

“Well hey, you do whatever. I just really hope you are not trying to make her into a sister of some sort. That’d be crazier than all of my previous suspicions” you chuckled.

Bryan looked at you, in an irritated disdain, “Fuck you, _______.”


Christ, what a compulsive liar. Bryan, you and your self-righteous justifications—you lying, cheating fucktard. 




When Disorganized, Part 2

A whimsical hyperbole of certain mornings while running late.

Attempting to Organize & Regain Control

Severely Unrestrained

A Water Fountain

A Water Fountain

Genre Jump

After my first formal attempt—after years of desiring after it, to give myself a full haircut, this is how the person in the mirror responded:


1) There will never be a shortage of barbers.

2) For those who dared themselves time after time to cut their own hair, you have my deepest respect: the trials and tribulations are unfathomable to me, personally.

3) My barber and I do not speak the same language; it used to agitate me greatly; yet, at the end of the day, I cannot live without her (Vanity? No. Loyalty.)

4) If you are new to cutting your own hair, make sure you do not have to get up early for work the next morning.