Monthly Archives: August 2014

Why Don’t You Just Reach Down Here.

What happened to “Several calls to his office went unanswered,” or “We attempted to contact her but were unable to do so,” or “I sent him 17 texts”? When did all these things – or just any attempt to contact anyone – become “reaching out” to them. Christ on a bike. That’s just disgusting. Whomever came up with “we reached out to them,” is surely someone who dotted every “i” in high school with an insipid pink heart and probably even tried that shit in college until some adjunct professor berated her publically before the end of the first week of class, but she still does it when she gets drunk on pinot and writes her boyfriend’s name over and over and wonders why he hasn’t called in so long.

You reached out to me? No, you didn’t. You left me a voice mail and a text both telling me to check my email. There was no reaching out. You’re not goddamn Mother Teresa visiting the leporotic. The only people who reach out are those who are about to drown and pissed off infants who just woke up from their nap and want the fuck out of this pissy crib. Otherwise you simply called. You texted. You tweeted. You twatted. You hollahed. You gave me a shout out. You put me on blast. You asked me for on-camera comment. You straight harrassed my ass. But whatever you did, it was not reaching out.

Good day.

Toilet Swan


I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

~ Robert Frost