A rut is created either due to friction-based erosion or rolling about in a familiar mud puddle. Both lead to similarly inertial results, but both processes are similarly comfortable and pleasurable. And, as it’s unlikely we’ll soon stop orbiting the sun, are we ever truly motionless? (Relativity aside, as always.) Besides, if you start each day from a different place how do you ever expect to get your mail? I find the hard part of life isn’t forging meaning from the hours, but filling them.
This week’s haiku go out to trusty fallbacks.
MINESWEEPER
probability
fortune does not favor you
bring calculator
randomly guessing
too lazy to diagram
is god on your side?
boss is hovering
thank the gods for minimize
sad life I've carved out
desert ringed by ones
clear warning you don't belong
your gut is lying
overcome the odds
it's not cheating if you smile
adjust preferences
one click to win (cheat)
somehow it never gets old
but how fares your soul?
SOLITAIRE
organization
sorting by suit and color
i also roll change
deal the cards again
maybe different results
shuffle cruel fate
bouncing deck of cards
my only triumph today
someone shoot me please
swanky macintosh
resistant to viruses
but lacks solitaire
robots and roses
comfort me in solitude
nobody loves me
As you can see, we're about scraping the bottom of the haiku barrel, so send us ideas or the bunny gets it.
