The American Caliban (substitute) wrote,
The American Caliban

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all's well that fucking ends at some point

Everyone is in love with the wrong person lately. It’s a Situation Tragedy, in which the same people end up dead on the floor at the end of each episode, stiffening and cooling as the laugh track roars on and on.

I remember experiments done with baby primates who had been separated from their mothers. They were given wire frame mothers to hug. The little primates preferred the wire frame mothers that had terry cloth on them so they were a bit softer. I think I’m going to go to the Sav-On and see if they have any of those.

Preferably with the cloth, you know, but one can’t be so picky these days.

We’re an unhappy bunch a lot of the time, but I wouldn’t trade these friends for any others. We fall in and out of love with each other, or crash our cars into each other, or accidentally eat each others’ lunches, but we can still talk about it reasonably most of the time and get somewhere that we can all live.

I want to freeze this moment and work on it, fix it, make things better, but all the time I’m trying to figure things out I’m getting older and my life is oozing away.
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