robots & republicans

i am molly the maneater.
my assault on the world begins NOW.

it looks like that is what the nation wants to choose between come november. the droid & the white guy. at least the robot is a female version. progress? we shall see, gentle reader.

i'm still rooting for the n00b. he makes me smile the wide-eyed grin of optimism. i even contributed to the campaign. shhhhh. my republican mother is likely to fly across the fiber optic ocean & gut me like a fish. let's just keep this between you & i.

i got called a traitor today by a high school person. hard to use the word friend. what is the statute of limitations of friendships? if you were friends during those tender, adolescent, ugly-duckling years, don't talk for a decade, and then pick up where you left off (well, not really...where you left off was asking your parents for permission, paying for health insurance was a test question-not something that came out of your paycheck, and drinking meant refilling your dad's marked-where-i-last-drunk-to liquor bottles with water to disguise the missing drams that went straight down your throat, up to your head, back down to your stomach, and then right back up again, hopefully outside where you could cover over it with wood chips or hay.) so no, not right where you left off, but let's say you converse (retro-runners are the best...i have a blue & orange pair, love 'em so much they are really skeevy looking & stink now. which is how you show love to kicks.)

do you call this person a friend?

for a DECADE, a third of your existence you have not been in contact. i find it a stretch. because really, when it all comes down to it, you are trying to be friends, but you can't really ever go back. you won't ever be spending new year's eve together parked in a toyota corolla on grand parkway, drinking mad dog 20/20 you got a migrant worker to buy for you at the local stop-n-rob, smoking swisher sweets you bought @ randall's. because at 30, this would be incredibly tragic.

but at 18, well, it was...well maybe it was sad & tragic then too, but in a entirely different genre.

you can't go back & that is SO GOOD-hence my quick & sure elation at being called a benedict arnold to the state & community of my birth. that is maybe the best part. you can wax nostalgic-listen to journey, drink boone's & feel insecure about what you're wearing if it feels right. but otherwise, great to be able to start over.