Tuesday 04.25.2017


Due to a flurry of situations totally out of my control, I’ve been listening to the Smiths a lot (more than usual) over the last two weeks. It’s hard not to be melancholic with a steady IV drip of Steven Patrick Morrissey being broadcast into my frontal lobe, but even without Moz’s influence I’ve been having a pretty rough time lately. It’ll pass, good or bad, and I’m very lucky that the causality of this funk is external and not internal- that no matter how many WTF moments are thrown at me (and they seem to be coming with increasing frequency) I’ll eventually hit that shitluck apex and will finally make it through a day without dropping a keg on my toe, slicing my fingers open, forgetting doctors appointments, paying for them anyway, failing at making new friends, dealing with the heartbreaking minutiae of possibly losing one and generally feeling like a magnet for all of the psychic crud that I usually avoid without a second glance.

(Facebook tells me that on this day in 2016 and 2015 I was posting a bunch of random Smiths songs on my timeline- maybe it’s cyclical)

I’ve been having a hard time shaking the guilt of being in a funk when people I love have it so much worse than me right now. I know, logically, that acknowledging my shit week (well, my shit fortnight) in no way invalidates the hard times that friends are going through, that it’s not all or nothing and that I’ve had the unwavering support of my wife, friendship of my bud Natalie and pretty much the ear of everyone I’ve pulled aside to complain about my grumpiness to, but there’s still this lingering sense of embarrassment that I’m a sadsack over things that I can’t control, over things that on their own wouldn’t be that big of a deal. That, too, is something that will pass but right now I just feel like a giant lemonface and I’m worried that I’m overlooking the chill days like H-Mart and Olive Garden with Julia and focusing on the bad ones instead.

Who knows man.





Thursday 12.13.12


I’m damned tired.
I’m doing my best not to be damned tired, but right now I’m losing the good fight. Thursdays are generally my ‘long day’ at work; I start the day with therapy and head to the bar at noon to run a full liquor inventory. It’s not terrible, but it does take a few hours. Today I had off of therapy, but my internal clock didn’t get the memo, and like any standard Thursday I woke up at 8am. That made Bailey happy, but for me, I really could have used a ‘sleep in’ day. Instead I drew an offensively hot bath and read a few chapters of American Gods while relaxing my muscles and trying not to think about that whole getting up early when I didn’t have to thing.

I think this is my sixth or seventh time reading American Gods; It may not be Gaiman’s best, but it’s certainly my favorite from his considerably impressive body of work. Apparently HBO picked it up as potential series, and is talking about stretching it out over several seasons starting in 2013. I really like the comfort of reading a book multiple times- it makes it easier to pick up and drop out when you only want to read a chapter or two and revisiting the characters really makes you have a deeper connection than a single read would give you. I’ll be interested to see how casting goes on the HBO series; I’ve yet to watch Game of Thrones but apparently it doesn’t have that horrible ‘made for cable’ vibe to it, so if they really get behind it… it has potential. I was really pleasantly surprised by American Horror Story, which I’m one episode away from being finished with season 1, so my normal contempt for series television is really starting to waver.

Reading has certainly helped with the foul mood that I’ve been in all day. I felt horrible while Facetime’ing with Natalie tonight- our usual flirty and fun call was mostly me just being a grouch and bitching about things that are wildly out of my control but that none the less effect me. She took it all in stride, reminding me that it can’t always be a good day and did her best to just be there to listen. Not to try to cheer me up or invalidate any of my griping. It was nice. Those little comforts are missing in my life and I’m glad that she ‘got’ that I just wanted to bitch and piss and moan for a little bit and then talk incessantly about the Hobbit (which I’m getting up early to see tomorrow in 48fps!) and about purchasing the wrong sized underwear which it turns out is the most excitement my life has had in it for a while. When I lament to you, my anonymous friends, that my life is truly boring- this is the kind of stuff I’m talking about lest you thought I was just being dramatic. I used to be more fun and now the big news in my life is that I accidentally bought XL underpants instead of Mediums.

This is what happens when I miss therapy.

Oh well. Tomorrow is a new day. I’m inappropriately excited about the 48fps showing of The Hobbit, and it looks like one of my Family Fun Adventure Day adventurers might be seeing it with me. Erin has no interest in a three hour movie about dwarves and wizards and I had sort of figured I’d see this one alone, but Mary Beth from our Zipline fun day is going to come with me. I’ve warned her of all of my cinematic eccentricities, and she’s still game after hearing about the mustard on popcorn and no talking amendments. I’ve heard mixed reviews about 48fps but decided to give it a go anyway. Most films are 24fps (frames per second) so this is double the amount of visual information to process. I guess it could go either way; I’ve heard that it’s hyperreal and that’s throwing people off. But hell. I remember my first IMAX movie and it almost made me throw up, so… I guess it just takes a while for folks to get used to that much stimuli. I’ll post a nerdy update about it all tomorrow, I’m sure.

See. Nerdy talk about framerates and Wizards and I’m already a little less grumpy. I think it’s just a matter of letting the bad day be a bad day and not trying to silver lining it that works best for me. Have a bad day. Let the bad day BE a bad day. Don’t put too much pressure on the next day. Buy the correct size of underpants. My life in a nutshell.

Photo: My grumpy day slippers.