The idea that our founding fathers intended anyone over 18 to possess enough firepower to destroy the entire continental army of 1776 is absurd, arrogate and dangerous.

#repealthe2ndamendment

I miss you - your methodical intelligence, your clear and definite character, your scratchy-blue-beard, your voice - a high fidelity love song.

I’m less obsessive about you in the rush of college with its narrowed perspectives and endless, immediate goals. It’s harder on vacation. There’s too much free time.

I’m tortured by my own needs.

“I can live without him,” I say, out of the blue, to no one - we’re lounging by a spa pool - “I’m going to reel myself in,” I add, listlessly “or I could just invite him - he’d show up for his own reasons..”

“You’re talking to yourself.” Lisa says.

“I’m seeking expert advice.” I answer back, shaking my head as if to throw off doubts.

“I love you.” he said, his voice raspy and emotional.

“You..?” I asked softly, and he nodded yes, slowly.

I kind of moved him away a bit - with a soft stiff-arm - to see him better in the limited light. He looked serious and a little flushed, as if feverish. I examined his face, looking for insincerity or jest but saw none. Perhaps this “love” could use some examination.

“Would you convert to Judaism for me?” I asked

He looked surprised and a little confused. “Are you Jewish?” He asked, hesitantly.

“No.” I answered. He still looked confused.”I’d be proud to be Jewish,” I clarified. “or to have a Jewish boyfriend.”

“Then.. why would I need to convert?” He asked, squinting with concentration.

“We were examining your sumptuous commitment to love.” I said, “forgetaboutit.”

I’m crushingly sentimental, you might not know, I don’t let it show, but it’s true. I’m walking in the moonshine and moonshine is how I feel - I’m intoxicated - by you.

Some nights when I can’t settle - I walk - and find myself outside your dorm. Your light’s on tonight, everything’s right, when you're a few feet away safe and warm.

I’ll wait a while, in the windy cold, the crunchy snow, deep in the sharp blue moonshadow. When people pass by, I look down at my phone - oh, don’t look at me, there’s nothing to see or do.

A walking girl, a stalking girl? Lingering, at 2am, drunk with desire, yearning somewhere inside for the ephemeral closeness of you.

Love is a bit of comedy, so be rough with love.

He arranges her one way and then another,
in itchy dissatisfaction. She surrenders to the role
like a silent bystander, a plaything in the hands
of impatience - what does he want?

“Like this,” he says in a schoolteacher’s voice.

The imbalance of power, the almost impersonal
manipulations, the momentum toward surrender,
and then the shocking, primal desire - to meld -
like a gunshot in a canyon long thought empty.

It’s a “travel week” here in Georgia. I’m writing this on June 1st at the Atlanta airport. This morning Sunny’s flying in from Nebraska, Sophy from California, Lisa from New York and Anna from Oregon - all around noon. Charles put a hard-shell luggage carrier on the roof of the Navigator because he didn’t trust it to hold the luggage 4 girls could bring.

My parents left last Saturday for Warsaw to join “Doctors Without Borders.” Charles, Leong and I drove them to the airport and then we took Leong to “The Mad Italian” for the best steak & cheese sandwiches on this side of andromeda.

Sunday was a typical lake day. We tied off in our favorite cove and were quickly joined by everyone who could get on a boat. Imagine that Dunkirk movie - except this was a get together - with motorboats, sailboats, skiffs, pontoon boats and canoes all crowding the little bay.

Leong’s an avril lavigne - who knew? On Monday, I surprised her with something green - a trip to “Fun Galaxy” roller-skating rink. I made reservations for a “birthday party” and a group of 15 of us had the rink to ourselves all morning (and cake). I thought I was a skater but Leong’s legit. She says that in Macau you either skate on the street (rough terrain and dangerously between cars) or at one of several huge multisport pavilions where the rinks are cement and resemble our skateboard courses.

She’d never seen an air-conditioned, basketball-court-smooth-hardwood, disco-lit, rock concert sounding, American roller rink. It was love at first sight. She spins, does double lutzes, skates faster backwards than I can forwards, and the manager threatened to pull her off the floor for doing backflips (“There are liability issues,” he insisted.) She was also amazed because there was a built-in diner. At home, she said, you have to bring your own water and sometimes your own toilet paper (toilets are completely different in Asia - don’t get me started on THAT).

Yesterday, Leong, Kim and I were waiting for a Facetime call, to coordinate today’s arrivals.
Before that though, at my behest, Kim helped me ferret-out - Holmes & Watson like - the dire skinny on something, and we, as long time besties and co-conspirators, had a plan.
“Did you know Rob Chen was class valedictorian this year?” Kim asked the room.
“No!, congratulations Rob,” I said.
“Yea, Rob,” Leong echoed nonchalantly.
“We’re so proud of Rob.” Kim continues.
“But, you know,” I said seriously, “there are Rob haters out there. I understand it - he’s hateable,” I expand.
“ek,” Kim blurted, like a little bird, at Leong’s reaction as Leong gasps, “What.. Why?”
“Because he dresses ugly!” I explained.
Kim, unable to curb her excitement, squeaks out loud.
Leong looked at Kim, shocked, Kim was looking down and rocking with the effort of silence.
“That’s not enough REASON,” Leong blurts, “to hate someone!
Again, Leong looked to Kim for agreement and got none.
“I don’t hate YOU,” Leong says, turning on me.

There’s a moment of shocked silence.

“WOW.. wow,” I say, as Kim nervously snickered with glee.
“First of all,” I begin, between my own chuckles, a defense:
“I’m wearing a very **** black ensemble but not exactly dressed to go OUT, (Kim laugh-coughed) and SECOND,” I pause for drama-queen effect.
“YOU,” I say, turning my head significantly and accusingly, towards Leong, slightly askew for a better view, “seem to have quite a few hickies on your neck this morning.”
Kim can't stand it any more and squeals, full out, with delight.
“You, need,” Leong said, pausing just before she lunges at me playfully, to put her hand over my mouth, “to cut off THAT line,”
“I knew it.. I KNEW it!” I say, bobbing and turning my head away as Leong pins me with her body while still trying to mug me and we’re all howling with laughter now.
“Those are Rob Chen hickies! - I. KNEW. IT.”

The facetime ring interrupts us and Leong reluctantly lets me go to answer it.
We all sober as she moves to press “Accept.”
“Let me just loop-back to say,” I looked at Kim with elementary-dear-Watson satisfaction, and said to Leong, “you didn’t deny it,”
Leong blushes crimson as the call begins.

I believe most Americans are appalled at the wanton gun violence in America today.

Surely the ****** of young children is revolting to almost everyone and begs for some action.

But what can we DO about it? I mean REALLY.. really.

Republicans want to arm themselves more, while democrats use these events to ******* to gun control fantasies that either cannot pass as law or will be struck down by the courts.

I’d like to propose a real, actionable solution.

We would announce this plan in every high school in America, propagate the offer in every morning announcement until further notice:

Any young man (or woman, let's not be sexist here) who, in their heart of hearts feels sufficiently motivated (****-crazed) would immediately be sent to Ukraine where they could **** real Russians to their heart’s content.

They would only be trained if they wanted it, only be part of an organized unit if they desired it, they would be armed on arrival or they could bring their own initial arsenal if they had it at hand.

Once they achieved 200 certified Russian kills (this number is negotiable) they would be declared heroes and could either continue their good work or receive some sort of scholarship or cash.

This is just one, practical idea - you, my reader, are free to propose others.

This is not a joke, not sarcasm, irony or parody - let’s actually DO something, shall we?