Vulnerable #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge

I was trying to think of a suitably comforting response to your latest post about your grandfather and other matters …. and I really have nothing that won’t sound trite or cliched.
Life really isn’t good or bad, its not benevolent or vindictive …. life is just life. Sometimes you find yourself standing in the wrong place – its not your fault, its not anybody else’s fault, its not life’s fault. It just is. But if you ride out the storm then one day you wake up and find yourself not in the wrong place anymore. What place will you be in? Who knows? Just another place. Its always worth hanging around to check out the change of scenery.
OK …. that was a bit trite, in the end.
BUT …. in the mean time …
Your poem does remind me of the great childish therapy of blowing shit up. Imagine if, right now, you could just walk down the street and, with a couple of high quality fire-crackers (we call them bungers in this part of the world …. its a good word) you could just blow someone’s letterbox to smithereens. Yes, I know, you’d regret it afterwards and there would be hell to pay and maybe they’d lock you up because you were obviously crazy (even though the act would indicate to me how completely sane you were) – despite all these things – don’t you think for just that moment that it would be really fucking funny?
Now I am not suggesting that you actually do that (though … hell, why not?) but something else might work. Just find a stupid moment every now and again.
On the other hand you might feel like venting your spleen on some moron who has no idea of what you are going through. I stand before you ready to take the pie in the face. Especially if you get a giggle out of it.

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