The Word "Honey"

Honey. Please honey don't go! Well she won't ever. I'll promise you that. You see, honey never goes bad. It stays forever in its warm succulent state, golden and soft. Today I returned to US. By rights I should be asleep right now due to the time difference but I just drank a hell of a alot of Ocean Spray and the sugar rush is keeping me from passing out. It's been a while so let me recap the past few days. More relatives. Visited Uncle Hans and Aunt Elsa who used to be fashion designers. Interesting because I just saw "The September Issue" on my plane ride back. Don't judge me, I was bored. Lies: I actually secretly still watch Project Runway. Let's just say it made the fashion industry seem alot less menacing when you had a fat man with a camera following around Anne Wintour all day. Anyhow they (Hans and Elsa) have a very nice house with many antiques and on more than one occasion was I tempted to pilfer something here and there. But morals got the best of me. DAMN YOU MORALS. They said the place was haunted by French ghosts. French. "Boo! I ave come to haunt you from ze grave!" I don't think that would frighten me very much. I once did very much believe in spirits and such things because I watched a little too much television in those days, but the explanation for such phenomenon is far too simple. It is memory. Lost souls that have been forgotten and still long to be remembered. But they themselves have left this earth and do not will it. It is your own mind that subconsciously acknowledges this presence and materializes it in some sort of "supernatural" event. We want these things to happen. We confabulate. CONFABULATE. Look it up... Our minds are more powerful than we think. That sentence had circular reasoning. Give that to an epistemologist. They would have a field day. A land of milk and honey. Moving on: we moved on to a Hilton Hotel. Not bad. I know my hotels too. I did work in one after all. THOSE WERE THE DAYS... Excuse me I was reminiscing. Well long story short my entire family got some sort of stomach virus except for me after having eaten at a Chinese Buffet and they are all still stuck in Holland except for me and my Father who was forced to return for work. So now I'm alone in this echoing cave of a building I call "home." The promised land. WHY IS IT SO FUCKING COLD! I love when my dad gives me money and says "Son, go do something useful with this" and then goes to bed. Was on the train heading to Hamilton when I hear the unmistakable laugh of an acquaintance. The laughter follows me. It haunts me. Like the French. AHA! Goodnight ... that honey on toast looks so good!