I am in Kentucky. Visiting future in-laws. Time being what we will of it, I do not wish to call them “future” in-laws. The future is “then,” and they do not feel like “then,” and no one knows what then will or won’t be. This is now, and they feel like now, which feels like this.
So. I am in Kentucky. Visiting in-laws. Seen and heard birds and accents and people I’ve never known before. Shopped at a 24-hour Wal-Mart. Been bitten for the first time in my life by a horsefly. Been bitten for the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth time by a horsefly. Been to a supermarket with signs saying you must buy cigarettes in the checkout lanes and not at the service desk, the opposite of what signs say in NY. I’ve gone to a baseball game and scored a goal in a family soccer game and met more tennis players in a week than all the prior years of this life.
I think I’m eating elk tonight. I am enjoying Kentucky. Enjoying my future in-laws. Time is a bit stretchier here, now. This.
Not really talking these days.
Top men are working out
So far 2017 has not been my healthiest year to date. In fact, most of my loved ones seem to have been dealing with infections and bloodwork and tests since before Christmas. Generally I try to adopt a “Don’t worry until you have something concrete to worry about” attitude, because more generally I try to live by “The universe unfolds as it must; you can’t bend it; maybe bend you?”
The past couple weeks I’ve been waiting for more bloodwork while trying not to let the limited info from the last bloodwork I had done metastasize into bugging out. Imagination is often a useful thing, but sometimes it runs amok and is not so fun. Like when you get a call about your test results that goes:
THEM: So we have your test results.
THEM: Yours are a little high.
THEM: A normal reading would be somewhere in the range of 40 to 60.
ME: OK… Continue reading
I haven’t written on this site in over half a year. God and maybe Borges only know how many words I’ve written in that time, but none here. There’s been a lot of silence and confusion and pain and joy that, combined and viewed from afar, look a lot like life.
I don’t stop writing because there’s nothing to say. Usually it’s that there’s too much to say, and I generally feel overwhelmed from talking. Pro’ly nobody who knows me would suspect that, but it’s true. I like to gather my thoughts slowly and work them out carefully before I release them. The plus to typing my thoughts is it gets me out of that shell; it artificially inclines me to say more things. The minus is the longer I’m in a writing rhythm, a prestissimo, the more I I start trying to force myself into maintaining that thinking speed, to keep up. But my adagio brain doesn’t like that after a while, so I can only outrun the silence of myself for so long, for wherever I run, there I am.
Gonna try to write more now. That’ll probably mean shorter stuff, at least for a while. Got anything you want to see done on this site? Let me know. What’s new with you?
I’ve been sick with a weird flu for days. A few people close to me have it, too. It flares up, then seems to fade away, only to return with a vengeance. You know those sand-bottom clown toys kids have? You knock them over but they always bounce back?
That’s this flu.
Speaking of relentless pain, a few thoughts on season six of The Walking Dead. A lotta people were disappointed in the recent direction of TWD. Count me among them, for the following reasons: Continue reading
In which I recap the Knicks’ latest nightmare loss, quote from the Book of Revelation, and muse on the relative rarity of one of my favorite adverbs.
In which I discuss the Knick hero’s tribute from his Latvian hometown, educate on the superhuman qualities of the Liepājan people, and implore New Yorkers to do their part to flatter Kristaps Porzingis, lest we lose this intercontinental version of Kramer vs. Kramer.
Late last Thursday as I was wrapping up my final class of the day, I felt myself growing inexplicably irritated. At first I thought my annoyance was because of a particular student, but the more I thought about it the less that made sense; the student, though annoying in general, hadn’t done anything to provoke the intensity of feeling I detected. The next morning I woke up and still felt off. Eventually I realized I had a headache, an epiphany I greeted with a sense of relief. Yes, my head hurt. But at least I had understanding. Oh. That’s why I’m in a bad mood. Okay. Now I get it.
That was nine days ago. The migraine has not gone away. It’s getting worse. Continue reading
I’ve posted 200 blogs here over two years, covering subjects from dating to basketball to book reviews to death to asshole ex-landlords to 9/11 to plagiarism to North Carolina. Good times.
One thing I haven’t done is a mailbag of viewer questions and prompts. So I’m opening it up to any and all readers. Is there something you’d like to see addressed? If you know me, maybe there’s a story you’d like to see immortalized in a blog piece. If you don’t know me, maybe there’s something you’ve wondered but never asked. Well, here’s your chance. You have total diplomatic immunity. Take advantage! However you ended up here – Twitter; LinkedIn; bluesofnine; warp zone; tesseract; rabbit hole; the red pill – give me a shout in the comments below and let me know. That rhymed.
My first 34 years of life, not many people I knew – like, really knew – ever died. Only a few, spread out over time. This weekend, a good friend passed away. He’s the sixth person I know in two years who’s now gone. I made music with the first. Partied in college with the second. Laughed a lot with the third. Survived high school with the fourth. Shared blood with the fifth. Shared creative writing and futbol with the sixth.
If you’re reading this and we’re friends, you may want to consider breaking things off with me.