Tiny Disasters

It had been like this since he could remember. For every one good bit of fortune to come his way- he would have seven equally unfortunate occurrences befall him.

When he was twelve, Sara Bonnie Falstaff, the most beautiful girl in all the classes of all the school kissed him. By the end of the day the final project for his English class (which consisted of foam board, plants, toy dinosaurs, working electric fences and a little jeep he'd painstakingly attached to create a jungle vignette from the novel Jurassic Park) had been knocked off the second floor balcony of his middle school- In an effort to avert the disaster, he fell- receiving 2 broken fingers, a cracked rib, two black eyes and a pebble in his shoe that he couldn't seem to remove.

At the age of 18, thinking that the curse may have been broken by his recent coming of age, he purchased a single, Powerball lottery ticket. Which he won.

Before he could claim the prize he mysteriously disappeared, for 2 years. One eyewitness claims he was taken by a large silvery orb from outer space, this of course is pure speculation- because he, to this day, will not speak of the events that occurred over those 730 days. He was unable to claim his prize.

He came to grips with what was happening to him, he understood that in all likely hood that this odd combination of karma and fate, would ultimately lead to his death.

His name was Sam and today something so great happens to him... that he surely won't survive.

New Blog Layout

"Hey-" I thought to myself, "-why not!?" I then toyed with the html to give it a new look. When finished I exclaimed "Cool beans."

Good Day

The day I had was like unto the knees of a most noble bee;

A day to cause a feline small to wear its bed time wares instead

Of its rough and gentle coat; O! Time spent with

A family loud and a family proud will make

A giant feel comfortable in a dwarven smock.

Nostalgia

Soft! My ears have tuned on to the notes of old

As wheels glide across roads of tar and stone,

Wistful and clean, these tunes do well in my chest and my throat,

Returning me to a time of more simple joy and care.

To Sleep.

Oh sleep, how does your gentle touch escape my hand?

Were't not for vivid dreams of future lives and hopes of abundant rest,

My days would fall, crumbling into a stagnent pool of wasted youth.