Sometimes, Memphis and I get along like an abusive lover and a masochist. This city will kick you when you’re down and then help you up and wipe the blood and spit off your chin. You have to question your sanity when you end up defending the city to everyone you know when they put it down, even when you know Memphis can be really bad for you.
You think about leaving it, but you don’t. Despite how it treats you sometimes.
I need a break. Which is great because I actually have two days off. I wish I had more time. But two days will have to do.
I’m hitting the road in a bit. Hopefully Regina Spektor won’t cancel. Again.
Unlike New York, which keeps kicking you in the balls repeatedly.
But I’m trying to get better. I’m watching a shitload of Oprah. I’m releasing my inner spirit. That asshole needs to released already.
I dislike the fact that my blog commentary has dissolved into teary-eyed communal kvetching sessions.
I dunno, Theo. I like living in Memphis. It does mean you have to be tough and savvy and know how to take care of yourself. But there are a lot of rewards, too, and they’re worth it.
Happy trails, LT. Don’t forget to activate the force-field around your car once you get there.
In case you were wondering, just about everyone has stopped by my desk to ask where you are. I say you’re at a concert and they ask where.
Chalk it up to newsy types being nosy, too, I guess. Jeez, you’re missed quickly.