When She Was Good

Where Does The Time Go?

When you are drunk? When you are in love?

Yes, crabby is in love and has been taking a hiatus wherefore.

Everything dissipates, all the problems, all the confusion, when you know.

Yes, It's Still Ongoing, Smart Guy.

Wake up with a refreshing cup of crabby.

Summer's First Night

I went into Manhattan to hear a singer last night. You can't tell, but she is wearing a hot pink corset. I am inspired.

I drank two Twisted Teas, took one bad picture, and in a roundabout way, paid for an autograph. Perhaps even more exciting, the man in front of me had a Corona with dinner.

There Is Life Beyond These Four Walls

Sometimes I feel as though as I am standing on the edge of a great adventure.

Pretty as a postcard; wish you were here.

We move through mountains when it suits us.

On the way to Cape Disappointment, just past Dismal Niche.

Right now, somewhere, life is simple.

Sitting up on a sleepy turtle, I am sure they see me and giggle when I squat to pee for the very first time.

The accidental crab wonders, was there ever such a sky?

Break the Tape

I have a confession to make; I never actually finished that haiku challenge of my own creation. Sure, I spit out plenty, but it is the principle: I never finished.

This is the one that stumped me at the time. Nothing I wrote for it made sense. I produced used-up, ill-humored comments about movies and video games. It deserved better. A lot of what I posted deserves better and perhaps I'll revisit them someday; I am still convinced the googlism project has merit! In the meantime, this is really it, the end, the final piece in an exhausting puzzle.

crabby is the latest from

for M.M.

Occasionally
someone happens along and

everything changes.

Clearly We Will Have To Turn And Come Home Soon

The end of the road is sometimes just the beginning.

Jerky wouldn't stop walking while Ronald McDonald's ghost made an eerie advertising appearance over his left shoulder.

Get your ducks in a row.

I keep thinking about when my brother went to Europe and she told him to sit towards the tail to have the best chance of surviving a crash.

And then the sun starts rising, and I can see the arc of a planet below me; child-like and amazed, while the woman next to me furrows her forehead because she forgot how incredible this was years ago.

No camine fuera de esta area, por favor.

Waiting for the gremlin.

The world looks patchwork and pleasant; people are immeasurably tiny and so are the problems.

Apologies

Last weekend I took an airplane ride, a couple in fact. I hadn't done that, for good reason, in almost a quarter century. I hate flying. Call me crazy but I have a strong fear of being suspended 30,000 feet in the air without a parachute.

As I took a last look at my tsunami hazard zone of a room, this is what glared back at me.

I immediately imagined how, should anything, er, happen, I would forever be the girl who left her bra on the floor. And what a bra to boot. You'd think it could have been something black and lacy. No, it's practically a cross-your-heart. Le groan.

The pathetic, smushed cups were enough to shame me into stuffing them into a laundry bag before leaving. It even prompted me to make a few last minute organizational maneuvers, but it was much too late to start spring cleaning.

On the ride to the airport the state of my affairs peculiarly tagged along. It was much too late to tell them.

If I really thought I wasn't coming back, I suppose I wouldn't have gone. If I was wrong, though, what a mess I'd have left behind.