You know how…
Sometimes you’re driving along, and you see this shoe lying on the side of the road, and you wonder how it got there, then realize you’d probably rather not know – or maybe that your imagination should be kept in check.
Sometimes you make up stories in your head to help you sleep, then you get so caught up in the plot that you’re awake until 4 am.
Sometimes you find yourself saying things to your kids that your parents used to say, and that you’d vowed you’d never say, and you just know that your kids are thinking: God, I’ll never say that to my kids.
Sometimes you admit that you’ve been more or less fumbling your way through life since, um, forever, and have never once made a well pondered decision, but then you look at where you are and note that things are awfully good, and that you’re by and large the person you’d hoped you’d be, and you wonder how the heck that happened.
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- Wow, it’s so eerie. I was awake until after three last night because of my endless thinking about the coming weekend. I played through so many scenarios, and was also thouroughly tired, but I still couldn’t sleep.
— Daniel Jun 27, 3:00pm # - sometimes you buy those packs of food that say EZ open and there’s arrows and diagrams and everything to assist you, but after 20 minutes you still can’t get the fucking thing open, and teeth don’t even work so you end up stabbing it open with a knife, and now you’re real mad because you know you paid extra for that EZ open luxury and not sure still whether you’re a just a hunking fuck of a loser because you couldn’t figure it out, or if its just real bad workmanship and you’re so mad anyway you’re not even hungry anymore.
you know?
— kilroy Jun 27, 3:11pm # - God, I’ve caught many sunrises thanks to the tangled plots going through my head. I concluded it would be more fruitful to stay up thinking these things in front of a monitor with editpad open. I was wrong. But isn’t that why we have our blogs?
— tonio Jun 27, 3:42pm # - No data on the kids thing yet, you’ll have to check back in about five years. But yeah, pretty much.
— Chris Jun 27, 5:47pm # - I always wondered why there is almost always only one shoe on the side of the road. Where’s the other one?
— Bryan Jun 27, 6:57pm # - For the record, I’m missing a shoe.
— garrison Jun 27, 8:18pm # - I dreamed last night that I couldn’t sleep. It was hell. I dreamed I was tossing and turning all night. The dream was probably very short, but I dreamed that it was endless.
— -ron Jun 27, 9:24pm # - Perhaps those shoes are all in some migratory hunt for that sock that is always disappearing.
— Terry Eaton Jun 28, 9:56am # - There is something forlorn about one shoe on the side of the road. Even more poignant is a lost child’s toy.
I like the notion of shoes on a quest for the holey sock—a happier spin on the encounter.
— Rana Jun 29, 7:11pm # - Sometimes you’re driving along, especially around Stevensville, Ontario, and you see this this old tree by the side of the road with hundreds of shoes nailed to it, and you wonder how they got there, then realize you’d probably rather not know – or maybe that your imagination should be kept in check.
— eric Jun 29, 11:24pm # - I used to cut across a small, disused cemetery from my gran’s house in Knysna (a tiny coastal ‘dorp’ in South Africa) to reach the road that led into town. On a digression from my normal route, I noticed a battered pair of old leather shoes next to a tombstone – arranged much like someone had stepped out of them and into bed. They appeared to be men’s dress shoes, black, slightly pointed – quite snappy in their day, I imagine. They disappeared shortly before I returned to Cape Town, but I kept an eye out for them on subsequent visits and, strangely enough, they – or a pair very much like them – took up position at the same grave a few months later.
My gran died a short while thereafter and I have never been back to the cemetery – but I do occasionally wonder about those shoes.
— michele Jul 1, 9:23am # - I have been currently observing, on a regular basis, a pair of shoes (converse sneakers) slung across some powerlines near my home. (Shoes in this situation are always in pairs, of course.) They’ve been hanging there for a number of months but now it’s winter and I’m sure that the laces will rot through.
And then they will plummet to the ground, and fall on someone’s head.
And it will probably be my head, because I’ll be standing there, looking up, wondering when they’re going to fall.
— meredith Jul 2, 4:17am #
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