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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/7-16-2021
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1300042

All that remains: in afterlife as 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. 20k views


Obshchak! Baby, Obshchak! Tin Roof…Rusted.

I should change my name, live a second life…better than this.

Some torn to the ground


Read here some old blog entries...*PointRight* 2018 Highlights

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A signature image for use by anyone nominated for a Quill in 2018 -- Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
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Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in  [Link To Item #2164876]  with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!

Rachel *^*Heartv*^*


Short answer, mostly relatable.
July 16, 2021 at 7:20pm
July 16, 2021 at 7:20pm
#1013772
~ I’m in an old, poorly scripted sitcom and I’ve just answered the phone and no one seems to notice that the phone cord is dangling, unattached to the receiver. Because everyone is going along with it, I start to twirl the cord. Now that I have pointed out the reality of the situation, no one wants to view anymore. Change the channel.

~ I’d like to have a conversation with these people who dictate our logic because they haven’t obviously heard anybody else’s opinion.

~ Each day I examine the evidence and come away feeling pissed off. I walk back into my cave.

~ Nothing means anything. Just don't watch.
July 16, 2021 at 8:57am
July 16, 2021 at 8:57am
#1013732
Own It

When you’re a kid playing with Hot Wheels on the carpet with wooden building blocks, you make a garage with your brother and each dream all the vehicles you'll own when you’re a millionaire one day, not realizing you’ll need a billion with inflation.

And you grow up and want a particular car, drool in front of the salesman and then negotiate. They take advantage of you, like the bank, but you don’t know finances. So, the dealer screws you, the bank screws you and you end up paying the next six years for a pile of crap, because you don’t know from Hot Wheels what a real car should operate like.

Then, you wonder if your dreams just got 1,000,000,000,000 miles further away as you kneel on the carpet with your kid to play…with trains.

By the way, mom got rid of all the Hot Wheels, trading cards or anything collectible from your nostalgic childhood, fading from any remaining happy memory. So, you go out and write about it, thinking something tangible could be salvaged. A lesson learned.

My brother became a service manager. We don’t talk anymore. Yeah, irony. Supposed to be humorous. Maybe, to you. I'll laugh at the next guy...

7.15.21


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/ripglaedr3/day/7-16-2021