matt pond PA

June 4, 2015


Please do not confuse me with the wild-eyed optimist waving nautical flags in your backyard.

I try to see the good in the world. Yet I also celebrate broken sidewalks, grass-stained knees and the beguiling sides of gloom. So many perfectly downcast Sundays with The Smiths.

Life has these constant initiations, these tests of will and patience. There aren’t swarms of locusts decimating my crops. But there will be thieves, there will be darkness. And as long as I’m alive, there will always be me to try and sabotage myself.

Last Monday, I locked myself out of my new dwelling for two hours. I was soaked from a run in the rain, a wet seal in shorts and a t-shirt with nowhere to go.

During my sprawled-out time on the stoop I realized I was being welcomed to the neighborhood with an otherworldly wink. This was a well-played celestial joke. The forgetfulness that sets me back also keeps a great deal of my anxiety at bay. The flaws are sometimes worth elevating. And as my mind turned and turned, I remembered that I’d neglected to lock the upstairs bedroom window. If I multiply my absentmindedness and couple it with my reckless climbing skills, I could almost rule the world.