Whatever.

Practicality is nibbling away at my toes. I’m an artist. I believe in the value of the artist, but how to make a buck? Get a job, obviously, but this is arduous enough. One can argue we are in an age where faith is no longer required because we have enough security in basic needs and science can give us all the answers, but it’s only the privileged who can say that. The rest of us need something other than facts to hold us together. That will sound ludicrous to the rational mind, but when emotions and reason are indistinguishable from each other, there needs to be something else. Or at least for this confused soul. I had a Frappuccino. It was soy though I didn’t ask for it, but why complain over such small matters? I was thinking about getting soy anyway, and now I know. There is a rally on Saturday against the potential oil pipelines. I know very little about these issues, but I know I’m against anything resembling tar sands. 

I just read job qualifications and think “I am none of these things”. Poet needed. I want to see that ad. I wrote a poem, made some eggs. What more can be done? 

About Moon Eggs

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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