Author: Paul Armstrong

Abigail has created a revised, and much more apropos, Golden Rule: “Do unto others as they have done unto you”. No wonder she keeps hitting Elliott back, she thinks that’s what she is supposed to do “Ya know, the Golden Rule”.

Elliott and I were playing last night on the couch. He would tell me to close my eyes, then he’s grab my cheeks before I opened my eyes and made a noise. Very entertaining, until he decided that he wouldn’t grab my cheeks but head butt me right on the nose. Yeah, ouch. I’m slowly…

It’s a cool day, with a light drizzle, makes me want to walk into a deep forest in the foothills, as the leaves drip with rain. A dull glow guides through the maze of trunks, footing unsteady on the slippery roots and leaves — a sturdy stick for balance. Serenity and peace, lulling and not…

It’s week three of Abigail’s kindergarten and we are all still adjusting to the newness of it all; the change in all of our schedules. It is quieter in the house now that it’s been reduced to one child between the hours of 8 and 3 and it seems a little strange too. Change isn’t…

I just finished roasting some coffee — Kenyan Tegu Peaberry. Can’t wait to try it tomorrow. The lights went out for about 8 seconds this morning. Woke me from a horrid end of the world dream. Sonya and I were at the beach. Dan was there. We were playing golf in the sand dunes. These…

The sun is out today and the air cool. I lived for 10 or more years in absolute terror of myself. Of what I would not remember. Of not waking up in time. Of forgetting yet another test. Of my “friends” throwing there stones and easy upper cuts – I was defenseless because I felt…

Elliott was downstairs playing with Sonya and I was in the kids room helping Abbie settle down for the night (and laying in Elliott’s bed). My mind wandered to my years of high school, living in Kansas City. Maybe I just wanted to see if I could remember any of my time there, anything specific – 15 or more years gone. Faces and names and places crept up into my visions.

I’m in a stupor. Lost. Aimless. It’s been weeks now of having a void of feeling. I feel neither loved or hated. I feel neither closeness nor repulsion. God is here — which are only words. My palette has lost the taste of mercy and grace. Life is virtual — lived in programs and viruses…