There is a truth about loneliness that is known fervently to all those suffering from it, and yet is forgotten the very moment we find ourselves free from its oppressive yoke. That is to say that being alone is not unlike having a blocked nose.
Continue reading “On Alternate Realities and Blocked Noses By Daniel Ashmore”
“Wake up, Benjamin. Wake up, brother man.”
I snap awake from my nap on my patio, look up at Hero Delicious Abbott, the fly in my ointment, the pain in my ass, the thorn in my side, my larcenous first cousin.
I, the most hated and reviled, the duly convicted mass murdering, monster calls and he, the newly anointed great red, white, and blue America white hope, comes to me like I knew he would. He enters with a mouthful of self-serving, homogenized bullshit.
“You’re just one insignificant member of a tiny, marginalized extremist group. You stockpiled weapons and hid in the shadows of normalcy and plotted your cowardly attacks. Death is a reward for your kind. Life without parole is a more fitting punishment, and it robs you of your martyr status.”
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