A cursed toll.

My imagination. Can be a curse. Rather than a blessing. Because I imagine all sorts of scenarios. Including the worst case. Of course, I try to focus on the best case. A happy resolution to troubling situations. But too often, I worry, worry, worry. That there’s a chance for disaster. For everything to go wrong. I keep repeating my mantra, ‘Don’t worry, be happy.’ Usually, it turns out that things go right. Reason to breathe a sigh of relief. But still, all that unnecessary stress takes a cursed toll. --Jim Broede

A healthy disease.

It’s time to be funny. To not take life so seriously. Especially in the worst of times. Funny, isn’t it? That I forget. That I’m preparing for my stand-up comic routine. I’m supposed to make people laugh. And if they refuse to laugh.  I should construe that as hilarious. So that I break out in uncontrollable guffaws. Which become contagious. Causing everyone in the comedy club. To rollick. To roll in the aisles. With laughter. As if afflicted with St. Vitas Dance. Yes, Yes, folks. That’s my aim. To make laughter a healthy disease. --Jim Broede

Life in a blink.

I am.  For me, that’s hard to believe. But it must be true. Because I sense. That I really am. And not merely a figment of a wild imagination. I exist. At this moment. In time and space.  In flesh. That I can touch and see. How can this be? Why am I here? Capable of consciously knowing. That I am. Specifically me. And that I have a history. Of having become me. Eighty-two years ago. In Chicago. To the best of my knowledge, the vast cosmos in which I live, has existed for billions of years. Perhaps forever. Without me. Until I suddenly show up. So very recently. Why not sooner or later? Why now? Maybe it’s just random happenstance. With no rhyme or reason. A roll of the dice. And surprise. Here I am. Quite likely. For no reason at all. Makes me wonder. If that’s all there is to life. Here for a blink of an eye. And gone forever. In the next blink. --Jim Broede

Of wonder and awe.

Thank goodness. I believe in a future. In change. Yes, in true goodness. Prevailing. Some day. I may be living. In the wrong time. I fervently believe. That the right time is coming. Yes. Change. Change. Change. The world is not static. I am free. To enter my dream world. By falling asleep. Thereby escaping the nightmare of reality. To dream. Of forever. And a flight to the great beyond. Into an everlasting bright future. Of wonder and awe. --Jim Broede

Another everything.

I’m convinced. It’s a crazy world. Unfortunately, a bad crazy. More so than a good crazy. I hate to turn on the TV news. Or to read the New York Times anymore. Because I’m being fed stuff unfit to hear and read. I’d rather live in isolation. In my cave. Pardon me. If I don’t want to stay connected. Please allow me to create my own world. To escape an imposed reality. To block it out. I’d be better off. Mentally and emotionally. Living imaginatively.  So I could become sane again. And pursue my life. Uninterrupted. As a romantic idealist. A spiritual free-thinker. A political liberal. A lover. A dreamer. I’m better off, too. As a writer. Able to exercise my imagination. Able to fly off. Far away. To another planet. Another galaxy. Another time. --Jim Broede

Like real people.

I can imagine. Being a cat. We speak each other’s language. And we have a spiritual connection. And an intimate understanding of each other. I suspect. That I might have been a cat. Once upon a time. For almost a year now, Marcello has lived with me. He’s an orange tabby. I nabbed him. From an animal shelter. Two days before Christmas. When he was still a kitten. I had been without a cat. For several months. Since the death of longtime companion, Lover Boy. I wasn’t quite ready. For another cat. But now I’m ready. I’ve grieved long enough. Over Lover Boy. Marcello sees to that. He reminds me. That it’s time to get on with life. I’ve always talked to my cats. Because they are like real people. More real than some of my acquaintances.  --Jim Broede

Free to be whatever.

I’m divided. Inwardly. Over whether I should accept the inevitability of my own death. I prefer imagining an afterlife. A continuation. Of my existence. Outside and beyond my physical being. I have nothing to lose. By imagining such a scenario. To the point of belief. Yes. Yes. It’s comforting. To believe in the preposterous. With no scientific proof. I need none. I am not a scientist. Better to go far beyond science. I am free. To allow my mind. To wander. Wherever it instinctively wanders. Maybe it’s not my mind. But more likely, my spirit or soul.  My indestructible, non-physical being. My true essence. Wandering. Not for religious reasons. Instead, I am a spiritual free-thinker. A believer in the existence of a spiritual realm. It simply is what it is. Real life. Without a creator. Other than one’s own creative self. Free to be whatever one wants (life) to be. --Jim Broede