As I walk out of the kitchen headed back to bed, I see the clock reads 4:45am. After blotting, scooping, bagging, and cleaning my five-year-old’s throw up, inexplicably I feel hungry.
The older brother wants to play tag so he asks his two-year-old sister
Do you want to be a Fly or a Spider?
The sister declares gleefully
I want to be a Flying Spider.
There is a certain grimace or wince that comes when you discover that the discarded piece of Gorilla Munch cereal you found on the table was tried first by your daughter and then by your wife and your only thought is, “why?”
The two-year old has a trail of wet Cheerios® from chin to bowl when she coughs.
Verifiable knowledge makes its way slowly, and only under cultivation, but fable has burrs and feet and claws and wings and an indestructible…
If you blamed yourself for a tragedy, how long would you wait for the other shoe to drop not realizing that it already had?
I want to say:
The sky is blue.
. . .
An art critic asked an up-and-coming artist:
