start in humming

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Start in Humming

Life shoots you down like a spring-loaded tin rabbit in a shooting gallery. But snap back for another go-around, make appropriate noises like BOING! or DOING! or COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!

Yes, that’s it, pretend you’re a rooster, who shoots roosters? But then they come for you with an ax, slap you down on the chopping block, whack off your head and there you go, racing around the yard spurting blood out of your neck, the yellow eye of your emancipated head glaring in stern disapproval from the ground while the hens cluck on the far side of the chicken wire, mourning the loss of the egg man.

Don’t take it too seriously, take it as a distillation of fear, a summation of hope, the whole thing in a nut shell. A great expectation, a spur in your flank that sends you galloping over the cliff.

Pray for the return of the all-night drunk and your first kiss.

Build a fortress out of fantasy and start in humming.

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