1. Days

    May your days be longer
    than you desire

    May your years run long,
    overflowing

    May you run fast enough
    to escape all this

  2. A Letter

    Hello old friends, inter-dimensional beings and highly-powered supercomputers…

    There’s a weird space that develops when you don’t talk to a group of friends for a while. Will they remember you? Will they now have reviewed your actions, and decided that you sucked in the most horrible of fashions all along? Were you the one that kept farting?

    These and other questions grow with time. They fall through the air, landing in a heap upon the floor. Before long they become so numerous that they start to form a wall between you and the idea of returning - a kind of physical barrier that leaves you in one of those weird moments where you open up emails or start typing a text to someone and then freeze dead in your tracks.

    Sooner or later, you have to choose: do I knock down the wall, or do I let the questions build up so high that, when I do finally return, everyone will be gone anyway? Do I really want to return to those bright lights in the city, only to find everyone has moved on?

    So I guess this is me saying hello once again - I hope you are all well. Maybe some of you are better than before, maybe some are worse. I’d like to find out either way. The multi-faceted compound eyes of the Maintenance Hive Mind are blinking into wakefulness from a slumber that lasted too long.

    My time online each day may not be that long, but I’ll make the most of it catching up - and keeping up - with y’all.

  3. Escapology

    constantmaintenance:

    leaving
                              the
    country 
                    soon
    who                                        knows
    what 
                                  the
          next
                    country
    will
               be
    like


    i
    suspect it
             will
    be 
      largely
                       the
    same;
    just
        different
    faces on 
      the money
                         and
       different
    words
                           on
     people’s
    lips

    there will still be assholes,
    of course.

  4. Escapology

    leaving
                              the
    country 
                    soon
    who                                        knows
    what 
                                  the
          next
                    country
    will
               be
    like


    i
    suspect it
             will
    be 
      largely
                       the
    same;
    just
        different
    faces on 
      the money
                         and
       different
    words
                           on
     people’s
    lips

    there will still be assholes,
    of course.

  5. Pedestrians

    constantmaintenance:

    no cause for concern,
    you can wash that right out

    garden path, garden variety.

    we walk by one another, shopping.
    we have little worlds in our heads;
    tacky dioramas on a low budget
    where we are the star and villain.

    wearing overcoats, carrying umbrellas,
    let’s talk about the weather
     
    or maybe grab some molten caffeine.

    and chew some scenery.

    all the while hoping
    that our little dioramas will be       unpedestrian.

  6. A Quiet Fire

    constantmaintenance:

    silent as a line of trees along
    a forgotten country road he

    was more a piece of furniture
    to most people and she, she’d

    spent her life being asked why 
    she was so shy, so shy, why was

    she always so shy? and so when
    they met there was a quiet fire, no

    words needed to be spoken, but
    everything was understood.

  7. Attic Conversations

    constantmaintenance:

    "Now these… these are really worth something…"

    My father - no, my dad - dusts off an old box and opens it up. Inside is what, to me, appears to be a load of old junk. The attic is full of the stuff. 

    Every time that I visit my parents, he is up there, in the attic. There are boxes stacked to the ceiling, and barely any available floor space to walk. What little floor space there is has been littered with trinkets, memorabilia, screws, dirt, and dust. You can’t walk through it without shoes; you’ll cut your feet to pieces.

    When I do visit, he likes to show me around. Much of what is up there, I’ve seen before, like the boxes of toys from my childhood. But, every time I visit, he likes to pick up boxes, that, as far as I can tell, are placed in random locations around the place, and tell me about what is inside them.

    This is not unusual behaviour for parents. I understand that. However, after he tells me about these trinkets and objects and old toys in these old, dusty boxes, he then tells me how much they are worth. This also is not that unusual. However, what is unusual is that, typically, after showing all this to me, he finally adds something along the lines of, “I know you’re not really all that interested in any of this, son, but I don’t have much time left and I want to make sure all this isn’t wasted.”

    I usually try to change the subject when he starts along this line of reasoning, but he tends to continue, adding, “I don’t have any pension, and I don’t have any savings. This is all I have. And I want you to make the most of it when I’m gone.”

    I never know what to say. In the past years, he’s had arteries transported from certain parts of his body to other parts of his body and he’s been diagnosed with diabetes. He’s also been finding, every now and then, that the skin cancer he keeps battling has returned. Trips to the doctor are now routine, and he takes the scraping of parts of his face off in his stride. He has taken to wearing a hat most of the time to cover the scars and healing scabs.

    But I can see that he suspects that… well, that his days are numbered. He knows it, I think. We know it too, because of course all of our days are numbered, but in this case we are hopeful that he has many years - decades, even - to go before he clocks out forever.

    In the end, I am forced to realise, we can try as much as we want to fight what will happen in the future, but after all our wrangling and negotiating, after all our scheming and fighting - when all that is gone - we are left there, naked and alone, with nothing but our hope. I pray that it will be enough.

  8. I’m going in a sec to head off… as I’ve run out of time… but I figure I should end the day here on something less bleak than the last thingy wot I wrote.

    So yeah. Fluffy bunnies, clowns, spring days and bright summer breezes.


    Did that work? 

    I hope so.


    Take care you marvellous people of the internet. Stay fluffy.

  9. Attic Conversations

    "Now these… these are really worth something…"

    My father - no, my dad - dusts off an old box and opens it up. Inside is what, to me, appears to be a load of old junk. The attic is full of the stuff. 

    Every time that I visit my parents, he is up there, in the attic. There are boxes stacked to the ceiling, and barely any available floor space to walk. What little floor space there is has been littered with trinkets, memorabilia, screws, dirt, and dust. You can’t walk through it without shoes; you’ll cut your feet to pieces.

    When I do visit, he likes to show me around. Much of what is up there, I’ve seen before, like the boxes of toys from my childhood. But, every time I visit, he likes to pick up boxes, that, as far as I can tell, are placed in random locations around the place, and tell me about what is inside them.

    This is not unusual behaviour for parents. I understand that. However, after he tells me about these trinkets and objects and old toys in these old, dusty boxes, he then tells me how much they are worth. This also is not that unusual. However, what is unusual is that, typically, after showing all this to me, he finally adds something along the lines of, “I know you’re not really all that interested in any of this, son, but I don’t have much time left and I want to make sure all this isn’t wasted.”

    I usually try to change the subject when he starts along this line of reasoning, but he tends to continue, adding, “I don’t have any pension, and I don’t have any savings. This is all I have. And I want you to make the most of it when I’m gone.”

    I never know what to say. In the past years, he’s had arteries transported from certain parts of his body to other parts of his body and he’s been diagnosed with diabetes. He’s also been finding, every now and then, that the skin cancer he keeps battling has returned. Trips to the doctor are now routine, and he takes the scraping of parts of his face off in his stride. He has taken to wearing a hat most of the time to cover the scars and healing scabs.

    But I can see that he suspects that… well, that his days are numbered. He knows it, I think. We know it too, because of course all of our days are numbered, but in this case we are hopeful that he has many years - decades, even - to go before he clocks out forever.

    In the end, I am forced to realise, we can try as much as we want to fight what will happen in the future, but after all our wrangling and negotiating, after all our scheming and fighting - when all that is gone - we are left there, naked and alone, with nothing but our hope. I pray that it will be enough.

  10. syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to…”

    2 points for alliteration. -10 points for spelling american.

    So unfair! I was trying my hardest! Fine, I’ll go back to spelling my way. And I’ll also put on my top hat and wear my monocle that I’ve been wanting to wear for ages.

  11. syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to…”

    we Behavior Analysts like to live on the quantitative edge

    So this makes me think you’re analyzing data in a kind of action movie scenario. Are you the Bruce Willis of Behaviourism ? 

    (do I get extra points for alliteration there?)

    (also points for spelling analysing wrong?)

  12. syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to…”

    i’m going nonparametric with n = 5

    A dangerous game to play, for sure. One day I dream to be able to run a Kruskal-Wallis and actually write it up! But for now, I must wait!

  13. syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to your post “syntaxandsemantics replied to…”

    i only understood half of that

    Me too! As long as you remember to bonferroni-correct everything, then it will all be ok.

About me

All about the maintenance, of all the little things - Prose/Poetry.