*referring, of course, to the american (and therefore) terribly misused, misunderstood and exhausted version of the word and not, of course, to its real meaning.
surely, not. right?
time will tell, as will your ability to live in reality. be it that misused misunderstood version or otherwise, i'm curious. terrible things happen, people do terrible things, hearts get broken, murders occur, worse things, too. all too often, genuinely mean people seem to end up on top, justified, vilified.... then they die. do we really feel that they karmicly (just made that word up: nationality verified) deserved it? because if we do, then i'll be damned if logic didn't just get religious.
i've pent up all of this anger, fear and the inevitable stories of the famed, bane of Franklin Street, Alice, only to realize that she has not inflicted me with mean thoughts, actions or deeds for more than 5 days. it has, in fact, been more than 5 days since anyone has seen her, since her disgusting habit has been tossed at my front door or all over the front stoop, leavings its deathly color all over the beautiful little Uhler Haus in which we reside.
i phoned the courteous and kind landlord.
he never answers but always calls back; he too has not seen or heard from her.
nor has her Advocate (don't ask).
it's any ones guess, but, for karmic kicks, maybe:
a) she has quit smoking (chain smoking twice an hour, every hour, day and night) and is effectively doing so by locking herself in her Campbell's soup laden apartment where she rigidly follows only one rule:
no smoking inside.
b) she played a radio game and won a cruise that left that same night
c) we'll find ourselves happy that she does not own a cat.
god, i hope it turns out to be option a or b. i wonder how she'd fare on the sea...?
4 days later...
(update) she's been spotted, smoking, hacking and moving slowly, excited about my "blond ambitions" and seen smiling, donning a hospital admittance wrist band. to be honest, i'm glad she's ok. although i do wish the shock of the hospital would knock the addiction to cigarettes (or at least the will to incessantly smoke them) right out of her. instead, she doubles up on socks and sweatpants and sits in the rain, on my stoop, smoking.
Alice said to me this morning, "I'll tell you this, Sssssydney, I'm a helluva lot warmer than you are! (spit)"