Against Virtual (((Hugs))):

Note: In case you haven't seen, 'virtual' hugs are signified electronically with parenthesis of various sorts: So if I think 'Tom' needs a hug, I might post the following as a response to him in a blog or message:

{{{Tom}}} or (((Tom))).

More parens apparently mean tighter or longer hugs. I bet there is even a whole systematics of meaning for different numbers and types of parentheses.

Well, the whole thing bothers me - it seems fake, distant, and makes me feel like us hairless apes with keyboards are substituting virtual, safe, distant friends for real, close, messy and troublesome friends. Add to that the fact that we tend not to hug people anymore in real life (too likely to be 'bad touch' perhaps). All of which seems in a direction away from goodness...

So without further ado, I bring you:

"Locust Eater: Against Virtual Hugs"



Parenthesis upon a screen
Aren't extra nice,
nor are they mean;

Don't warm you up
Don't make you frown
Won't cheer you up
Won't make you down

Don't bump your glass
Don't muss your hair
Don't grab your ass
Don't make you glare

Don't squeeze you tight
Or hold you wide
Don't light a fire
In your inside

Can't pass a germ
Or make you love
Less warm than handshakes
Wearing gloves

Like fake kisses in the air;
Closeness, they say, we do not dare

I s'pose they're nicer than a sneer,
But I'd prefer...

...you drank my beer

And spilled the stew
Stepped on my foot
Played pranks with glue

Made a stink and stole my watch
Poured some ink onto my crotch

Burned the toast
Drank up the milk
Ate the whole roast
And stained my silk

Threw up on my bedroom floor
Bashed a big hole in the door

Woke me up at half past three
Made me laugh so hard I peed

Kicked my cat, then broke a chair, Ruined my hat -I'd know you're there.

No, hugs of text don't satisfy;
Hug someone real, who is nearby.



...If you come by and ask, I'll ACTUALLY hug you...

-LE

The redemption of Bully McFister

I looked up Bully McFister today
You know, the one that used to steal your lunch money, and hit you for no reason? Who liked shooting small animals with his bb-gun and bragging about it? At length? The one who liked to make fists with one knuckle sticking out and hit us as hard as he could in the bicep to give us bruises? That guy, you remember.

Well I felt like looking up the old crew and I 'Googled' his name. I thought I might at 'best' see a police blotter report of a robbery or a shootout, or even more likely nothing at all. But no, he pops right up, I see evidence of a creative soul, a sharp mind, an analytic, go-getting man who writes beautifully. I enjoy reading what he writes, and he is relatively prolific!

I squint at his picture in awe, trying to see the wise-acre who flicked boogers at us all from the back row, who enjoyed picking fights and causing trouble, who left us achingly writing our homework with bruised arms. A faint echo is all I get. Yeah, it's the guy. Who knew? Clearly my elementary-school self judged him prematurely, and I carried that predjudice forward. Somewhere inside the obnoxious troublemaker were the seeds of this new person. A person who contributes much to our world.

So Bully made good. I am glad that he did... ...it somehow seems redemptive. But I feel guilty for assuming he wouldn't, and wonder if we aren't failing many of our boys if they can be percieved as so futureless in school, and yet be so much once they hit the real world. I wonder what Bully's story is... Did he change all at once? Was there a series of transformative events in his life? Or did he just slowly start opening up, once he was away from the strictures, cliques and repressions of the school environment?

I wonder...

But I'm not sure I'll be reaching out to Bully to discuss all this. My arm is still sore.

Peace,
LE


'Bully McFister' is a fictional name that I made up to relate this story, but the story itself is true. For anyone who is actually named this, I pray your life is at least as redemptive as that of my 'Bully'. And for those working and suffering with today's 'Bullies' I ask you to take note. God is everywhere, indeed. Maybe your 'Bully' needs an outlet, a friend, a big brother, or a role model, maybe the investment in him is hard and painful, but he has real potential too. (And I reccommend thick sweaters to protect your arms.)

Trainus regit me

Just for fun...

My train is a local, I shall be late.

It makes me to stop in small towns, and goes slowly beside still waters.

The gardens and trees I see revive my soul.

I am led slowly along the railways for New Jersey Transit's sake.

Even though the train runs through the darkness of the Hoboken tunnel, I shall fear no evil.

My Conductor and my trainmen, they comfort me.

They find a seat for me in the presence of those who trouble me

The train jostles, and my coffee cup tippeth over.

I annoint the heads of the other passengers with spillage.

Surely the annoyed and damp passengers will persue me from one end of the train to the other.

I feel like this train ride will last for ever.