Tom

One thing I love about September is it's sunflower season. Here in Salt Lake they grow along sidewalks and off-ramps, taller than I am - plus much more cheerful - and waving at passersby to brighten their days. My brother Tom loved sunflowers; he planted them up and down our lane and late summer always looked like him. Those sunflowers started to fade with waning years, a little like my memories, and soon the last one was stamped out by our new neighbor, a tiny in stature, medium in width man with rapidly diminishing follicles and a truck much too large for his height, because he "didn't want it to scratch the side of his RV". This hurt me deeply, and many a time I have resisted sprinkling the entire length of the lane with sunflower seeds in the night like a thief.

Touche, Thursday

Here's a real short post because I need to complain, but I'm morally opposed to and vehemently against complaining about life on the face-books, and since this is my blog I'm imposing my power of free speech and ownership of space to do so. That was quite the spectacular sentence, and a little run-onish. Whatever.

American Horror Story

"Don't wish, don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart..." These words have been in constant thought for a few days, though I'm unsure why. I don't find myself wishing for much... and then I realize what today is, and it starts to make a little more sense. Stephen Schwartz wasn't talking about a spectacularly horrifying event in American history when he wrote those words, but they fit in so easily to so many scenarios.