Post Apocolypse: AKA, a funny thing happened the morning after I watched "The Book Of Eli."

(The following is a true story with some added rambling thoughts sprinkled throughout.)

(Pre-Script: This post will leave you feeling like you are all alone in this world when read as the song, "Soldier," #48 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)(...still waiting...)

Imagine my surprise when I pulled up to the Starbucks drive through at 8:30 am and there was no line. I thought they must be closed for the first time in recorded history. But no. They were open. The customers had all been raptured, and I'd been left behind. The employees of this particular Starbucks were also left behind. So I got to thinking, and when I get to thinking, woah. And when I got to thinking, I thought, maybe I'll have to form a band of scavengers with these Batista's, like the ones in the movie, "The Book of Eli." (which, coincidentally, I had just seen the night before.) We'll just wander around all dusty and ragged and grunting for water, and if we're lucky, we'll find a hairless cat to shoot for dinner. Maybe I will be the one wielding the chain saw. In a Post Apocalyptic World, When you're down on your luck like that, you can't be too picky about the people with whom you band, the small critters on which you dine. You can't even be too picky about who gets to carry which power tool. These people made a decent coffee drink, I really was delightfully caffienated by it, so I figure I can trust them Post Apocalypse and all that. At least in the mornings, I'll be able to trust them. I just don't know if I can get used to smearing cat oil on my lips when all the chapstick in the world runs out. Maybe I wont have to. Maybe my lips will stay moist from drinking coffee. Maybe we'll have enough coffee stockpiled to last for our entire lifetime. Coffee, coffee, coffee; I can just live on coffee all day long. Coffee for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Lots of incredibly rich celebrities survive on just coffee and Redbull; why can't I? Minus the Redbull? Think about it, people. One can do worse than being left alone in this world with a group of espresso experts. I'm not exactly complaining.

-XOXO,

When I fell

(Pre-Script: This poem is meant to be read as the song, "Bend and Break," #39 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. When you read it a second time, choose "Better," #39 on the playlist, as your background song. I'll wait...)(...still waiting...)

The blanket was up to my neck, more like just
under my nose. Did I say blanket?
It was actually 3 blankets and a comforter.
I felt warm and safeguarded, was not conscious of falling asleep.
At some point I started to dream. It was the
coldness in my dream
that woke me-
The covers were now down below my arms,
my arms goose bumped and probably blue
(in the midnight dark, everything looked blue)

oh the inconvenience of how that happens, my ability
to fling my own warmth off
just when
I am beginning to
sink into
something comfortable,
something safe
and I'm not aware that I'm doing it,
don't even realize I've done it
until it's too late.

After that, you know, my right shoulder was sore all morning?



-XOXO,