To Send is to Receive

A touch to the nose reveals: of puppies, health, of humans, ticklishnes, of Lyopa (my mom's cat), mood. It is a litmus test, but one that doesn't waste any trees or turns purple.

On this night of nights, one may find oneself studying one's words for one's test, test of next-steppery, if you will. To some, this next step is necessary, to others it's more necessary. To others still, it's a step backward. What's it to me? It's a step forward in a direction that was trod on years ago. Overtrod, that's a word, I'll bet you two other words that it's a real word. Interestingly, though not ironically (I love commas, have you noticed?), I find myself stepping forward into the past.

My many peers, and during the course of my illustrious career as a student I've had many many, have all aquired the studious gall needed to INDULGE in next-steppery while they were still manifesting their various hormonally driven physical attributes (puberty), (let's put a comma in, grammar, after all, is but a tool of the learned, and a weapon of the unlearned. Like a monkey with a mean streak, a grenade and only one thumb). For me, however, this gall is only now being aquired. Now, at 2:22AM on a Wednesday morning, the morning of an exam that I should be wholly prepared for.

What the hell am I doing writing? Nothing. I had something to say, it all went awry at the mention of the monkey. Where'd that other thumb go?


back to studying, and raise a brow to my next-step. may it not be overtrod in memory.