The Parthenogenic Man

Time is weird. Life just kind of marches on at strange intervals, bits of you that you'd like to keep get left in the dust, but the parts you don't want seem to latch onto you like train cars, trailing behind you, moving in your same direction, each successive car making you less and less responsive to changes in direction and requiring more and more fire and steam to move forward. What is time's ultimate destination? When are you experiencing and not just going toward or away from experience? How can you tell? When you filter your life through the vagueries of time it becomes a surrealist nightmare, An Andalusian Dog waiting to slice your eyeball with a straight razor. Despite all our attempts to master time we cannot. The best we can hope for is a constant revisitation of divide and not conquer, first we name seasons, then we name months, then weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Some days we make special because of lunar occurences or deaths of important people. Nev...

I was terribly excited when i was chosen to play Santa in my third grade christmas paegent. To my way of thinking Santa is the star of any third grade christmas paegent and even though i wasn't the one solving the mystery in our little play (because for some reason it required a mystery)how could i not be central? It was Santa, it was Christmas, clearly this role required someone with my gravitas, my je ne c'est quoi, my star power. I was glad the world had finally taken notice. Delivering this news to my family was something i really couldn't wait to do. My family: my mother and I. That was it. A dead father, a divorced step father had left it just the two of us, binary stars trapped in each others gravity. Occasionally, my mothers gravity being what it was, others were drawn into our orbits. When i was finally discovered, that orbit held a man who my mother was with for quite some time, he wasn't awful, but he wasn't great either. He was the first of two men w...