Defective: (adj) having a defect or flaw; faulty

 Ever since I fell in my house a couple of months ago, I have sprouted a defect which makes me suspect.

I really don’t want to talk about it.

It makes me feel weak.

It makes me too vulnerable.

But falling in my house and not being able to get up without assistance from the fire department was not only humiliating but left me feeling insipid and beholding.

The actual experience was inspirational.

But something can be totally inspirational and still leave you wishing and hoping that it never happens again.

For instance, I would love to be raised from the dead but would not welcome the circumstances to roll around again.

I’ve gotten strange over the past few days.

When I close my eyes, I don’t feel like I’m in my house. And because I’ve traveled so much, my mind is transporting me to other locations, and if there’s a television show in the background, I actually envision a completely different décor.

Oddest of all was a dream I had last night, where I envisioned myself into the living space of Justin and Angel, in China—where I’ve never been before. But I would have sworn I was there, living it up with them.

It would all seem rather bizarre if it weren’t for the imagination that exists in me as a writer—for I am constantly conjuring scenes in my mind to coincide with a story I’m hatching.

But I have to admit, this particular rendition is unusual—right down to the coloration of bed covers and the texture of vinyl shades.

If you hear of me passing on to the Great Beyond, you might mark in your mind that some of these things may not have been mere coincidence—but rather, a warning of a defect leaving me defective.

If, on the other hand, there doesn’t seem to be any lasting difficulty, you can state what you have often stated:




Bungalow: (n) a low house, with a broad front porch

Words are tools, but just as in the case of a screwdriver, can be used to kill.

If placed correctly, they can make sense or communicate our thoughts. But if not, then they are dangerous or at least deceptive.

I have used the word “bungalow.” I have used the word bungalow to describe some home I was renting which was beneath my standards–or perhaps universally without any standards. I wanted to make it clear I was not living in some sort of cheap flat, but instead was inhabiting a bungalow.

I chose the word “bungalow” to explain my living situation because I knew that nobody had a grasp on what a bungalow actually was. But I was willing to take the chance that most people thought a bungalow was more ritzy than a one-bedroom/one-bath.

Nobody ever questioned me on it.

Heads would turn slightly to the left or right, as if considering what a bungalow might be–but human pride prevented them from inquiring about the exact appearance of the domicile.

Yet the description of one’s less-than-acceptable environs only works if nobody ever comes to visit.

The first visit will eliminate the impact of the word “bungalow” for all time.

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