Sunday, August 28, 2011

Letters to People

Dear Morning Person,
I would like to inform. 
On matters of the heart: it matters, for any given reason, simply because it is the heart. 
On matters of the birds and bees, I'm not sure about this, as bee's sting, and birds sing. I'm not sure what this has to do with sex. 
On matters of love, well it mostly depends on if you are talking to a child.
On the matter of spinning tops, they seem to stop and tumble, but they spin in a different kind of way then, and I think that is the better of the two. 
On all matters that have to do with August, we seem to think August occurs in the summer, but someone once told me if you live elsewhere, winter, occurs in August. And August once lived down the street from me, and he preferred spring best. 
One can not mention August, without bringing up the matter of glass coffee pots. If ever entirely excited about a statement of a coworker, while working at McDonald's, and carrying two glass coffee pots, do not emphasize your point, by tapping them together. Usually a broom and dustpan is required after that. 
On the matter of people sleeping, well it should always be done with ninja like qualities; never noticed, except taken note of by the person stealing your TV. 
On the matter of written material, let's break that down, writ. ten. mat. erial. Similar to Arial the mermaid, but somehow unrelated. 
Well I thought that might be all, but I was just reminded of matters of the playground. Do not let the monkey bars fool you as they did me. I never saw any monkey's there, even if I tried to quietly sneak up onto the monkey bars. Pretty sure the monkeys were playing in the kiddie pool.
Always existing,

Dear Afternoon Person, 

I do hope the day is treating you well, but then can a day treat you well, or do you treat the day well? This is similar to the question of which came first, the mosquito, or the mosquito eating bug. And really, what are those large mosquito eating bugs called? Surely they have a name, and I believe their name might give some indication on other particularly good qualities they might have besides mosquito eating, but hence we shall never know of their other skills, until someone comes forth and confesses its name. 
And really, what's with logic? 
Sometime I question if I should stop and think. 
Oh, and in trying to share an interesting segment of a time in space with you. 
So, let's ponder for a moment the struggle we all try to justify in our heads of the meanings we put behind "need" and "want." I feel very right if I say "I need a purring cat in my lap right now." And people think, well she said she "needs" that, which means it IS a necessity, and they will quickly fetch me a kitty, although I did once have someone attempt to give me a puppy, as a cat was not readily available, but the damn thing only made whimpering sounds, and wagged it's tail a lot; odd. So back to my point, but if I say "I "want" a purring kitty in my lap," people assume that this is not a necessity, but only a desired state, and now I question if the person who got me the puppy the one time, misunderstood me, and thought I said "want" instead of "need."
So in all matters such as, and similar too, and of the words their, there, and they're, I think I might be done. 
Yours kind of truly, though sometimes I tell stories that are not true, but they have a small detail of truth such as when I told the story about the white bunny I ran over by accident. I told people later when I rolled my car that the bunny was the cause, although the bunny incident happened about a mile prior to the rolling of the car, when I went around a corner to fast, and fishtailed, and over-corrected, and successfully flipped my car upside down. You see instead of speed being the cause, which would have indicated the car flipping being my fault, I  simply placed the bunny at the corner where the fantastic flipping of my car occurred, and now people give me a hard time about "Oh funny, you can't run over little bunnies," but really I'm ok with running over bunnies.
For example, Goodbye, 

Dear Evening Person, 
This comes to you a little flushed, as I wrote this while cleaning the toilet. It's a little rushed as well, as one never walks to the bathroom, but always runs; to the bathroom that is; one does not always run. 
One time I had a cat named Squirt, and I loved this little adorable black and white kitty. Then I let all the cats into the house in the winter one day, when my mom was gone, and I noticed Squirt was not present in the warmth. I inquired with my sister, who generally didn't give a damn about the cats, but who for the most part was still aware of their whereabouts. She did not disappoint on her knowledge, but rather cruelly shared with me that "Squirt had been squirted." My mother had apparently accidentally run him over as she was backing out of the garage. I still don't speak to my sister these days about the private lives of private detectives.
I once minded my own business, but found that this wasn't very much fun. It was kind of like eating cinnamon graham crackers, but finding you were not particularly fond of the cinnamon, but would have preferred sticky gummy bears instead.
In the second grade I was sent to the principal's office, when the teacher discovered I had written fart on the back of my spelling book. This was an unpleasant situation, as the kid next to me, was doing time for hitting a kid in the back of the head with a bat. He seemed overly pleased in having done this, and did not seem to mind sitting in the principals office. I however; was told that fart was a very bad word, and I did not feel very good about my use of this word. The principal told me I was always to be a polite young lady, and never use bad words. I only wish I had misspelled fart, similar to the way I misspell thier all the time, and that I had spelled fever instead.
Well once again, I leave with hesitation, automatic updates, and poppy seeds taken directly from where they grow in muffins. 

Leaving the day. 

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