war

All posts tagged war

Love, Sandee

Published October 7, 2014 by Sandee

Do you think that I enjoy putting hexes on people? No! Yes, it’s necessary sometimes in the playground of my mind for me to believe that I have this option, while we all know this is delusional.

witchWell anyway — but I did take a hex off a guy I decided I liked. I discovered he did something very nice for somebody. So I thought about it all and decided that for the rest of the week I’ll go on a love mission. This means that I’ll have compassion for people and their stupidity, ignorance, fear and self-loathing. I’ll try to identify with these human frailties instead of suffering from the self-righteous indignation that fires me up to a state which makes it completely okay for me to damn people to hell.

Love,

Sandee

P.S. Still, if I could only — hahahaha! — Check out this cool witch’s coven –“She must die, die, DIEEEEE! — Give me power — sickness, sickness…death, death DEAAAATH!”:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bums

Published October 15, 2012 by Sandee

“Frank!” I screamed.  He was back at the benches by the historical house in his wheelchair with his entourage.  He’s been missing lately.  He slurred, “Hello my beauty,” on his way to smashed.  Once I saw him spoon with another male bum on the sidewalk.  Today I wanted to give him my change from Rite Aid crumpled in my hand, but it wouldn’t have been fair to the others.

I don’t care for the one with the dreads.  Once he stood by McDonald’s menacing people.  I glared at him, ready.  He backed off.  Days later he stood in the center of the sidewalk by the historical house, facing me.  He looked at me and took his dick out.  He let it hang for a second before taking a piss by the wall.

On my way to work he’s usually sleeping.  He surprised me with a mellifluous “Hello” one morning.  He was sitting up, looking at me with doe eyes, smiling.  I didn’t even know he could speak using regular words.  War’s over I suppose.

Frank shares food and liquor with him.  I give Frank food they give us from the café where I work.  Once he was passed out drunk.  I woke him to tell him I had food.  He nodded, grabbed the bag and said thank you.  I didn’t think it registered, but the next day, he said, “Thanks for the food my beauty.  That sandwich was delicious!”  He said he shared the food with his friends.  He went on about how good the sandwich was.

Some are dirty and sick-looking.  One was just a head in a wheelchair.  Well, he had no legs and barely a torso.  He’d perch in front of the subway stairs.  I gasped from shock when I saw him.

The one that held the Dunkin Donuts door open for people moved to the next block. He was a sanitary hazard, filthy but friendly.  He’s eyes are always red.  Generally he just says hi how you doing but once he said, “You know you my baby girl.”  I said, “Really?  Give me some money then.”

There’s a married couple.  I don’t like them.  They live on the bench by the park and in a busted car.  I’ll tell you about them another time because they deserve a whole post.