March 1, 2011
Dear concrete,
I'm writing to congratulate you on behalf of....well....um...myself.....for being chosen as a writing prompt for a bunch of crazy ass bloggers on Studio 30+ this week. That's right! You were chosen. You should totally pat yourself on the back.
I considered using simply the idea of what you stand for, an allegory of sorts based on your inherent nature, to write a wonderfully abstract and soulful piece, perhaps probing the depths of my mind, lamenting an unchangeable fault or circumstance or some such nonsense. Regardless, I'm sure it would have been psychologically deep, maybe even beautiful, with all sorts of crazy adjectives and orgasmic paroxysms (see, I just snuck that right in there, didn't I?).
But I digress. I've decided not to do that. Mainly because I really don't think you need all of that garbage to be the best concrete you can possibly be, and to love yourself exactly the way you are. Your shade of gray is the best shade of gray ever. And as long as your creator doesn't get all cheap and lazy and mix too much sand in with you, your fantabulous hardness makes for a pretty awesome driveway and back porch. I really do have the best back porch ever, and it's all because of you!
Now, I know I've cracked you on the driveway. And I can't apologize enough for that. I know I should fix you. I know you must feel taken for granted so often. You get used and ignored. We just get in our cars or sit on the back porch sipping our tea, and expect you to always be there for us. I never show you the appreciation you deserve. And for that, I am sorry. I promise I will fix your cracks! Please believe me.
I know it must totally suck when we have to edge you with the Weedeater. I can't imagine being treated like that. But you take it like a man, you do! I've never heard you complain, not even once. And you must feel so silly and humiliated when all the neighborhood kids draw all over you with their pastel chalk. I would totally die if I had to lie down and let a bunch of kids draw squares on me and then jump around on them. Wow. You're strength and silent resignation are absolutely enviable.
Soooo....yeah. I've just realized I'm sitting here talking to concrete. I'm supposed to be working at a job that actually pays me money, but I'm talking to fucking concrete.
Must... step... away... from... writing... prompts.
5 minions who have sucked on my crap:
I sold concrete for 4 years in the late 90s. So, given this low level expertise, I would like to say, on behalf of concrte, thanks Aimee.
You're only certifiable if the concrete starts talking back and you don't charge others $5.99 as an entrance fee.
I have been trying to sleep for the last hour, but I have about 4 writing ideas in my mind so I finally gave up and decided I would get to sleep faster if I just got up and typed them so that they got out of my head and shut the hell up.
And lest we forget, the more ground we cover with concrete, the less grass remains to cause allergies and house critters.
But, then again, the insidious side of concrete is that he contributes to runoff and flooding...
and hurts my damn knee when the %^$% dog trips me with the leash!
@Lance- You're welcome ;)
@Dafeenah- Concrete isn't supposed to talk? Shit...
@Barb- House critters. Does that include kids? Because if all it takes is a little concrete, I've got all sorts of awesome shit I could be spending their college fund on.
Oh oh, we DO think alike :-)
Well written indeed
Post a Comment
Suck on my crap