excerpt from At the Mystic Aquarium by Patricia Fargnoli

She lets out a cry that rips straight through
and her mother snatches her up, snaps at me in anger.
Sorry. Sorry. I say again and again
as I try with no luck to struggle to my feet,
straining against the dark and the gravity,
thinking how hard it is to rise
from the downthrust of weight and age,
aware of shame's bloodrush, tears beginning
as if I were the hurt child, the one who needed saving.

how can i post about popped collars and herpes when you just updated about your wife's operation?

Cant you seriously update everyone about that around noontime?  Why at night when I am ready to inform the masses about my musings do you have to post something so . . . important and serious?

Who is the jerk in the following situation:
Man 1: My wife just had an operation.  We get the results back in 3 hours.
Me, 2 seconds later: Is it just me or do guys wearing popped collars end up having an STD in 2 years?

If you said Man 1, you're a horrible person.
All you other killjoys can suck it though bc I BRING UP A GOOD POINT REGARDLESS.