Shot this right before leaving for work and when I got home, I noticed that the rain had taken the white poof with it. Insert trite observation about time changing everything here. I was in a slightly better mood today. Slightly. It’s sort of sinking in that the status quo is unsustainable and things are changing so I best change with them or get left running behind the bus, choking on gravel and grit. It…
I don’t even know how to keep up anymore. And they say the ride just keeps spinning faster and faster the longer it goes. I had one of those moments tonight where I let some bit of the news get to me, stop me with a screech, hold my jaw tight in its hands until I paid attention and processed it and it made me feel sick. I read the pilots’ transcript from the Continental…
Welp, in mere hours, it’ll be time once again for the you-know-what. I’ve said the word “zombie” so many times this week that I’m kind of tired of it and would like to not say it again for a few months. So it goes. Every year. I’m paranoid about turnout, of course. I always imagine that it will be, like, thirty people, all of whom will be immensely bored. It’ll be good. I know it…
If I have but one talent, it is running decent things into the ground until every drop of goodness have been squeezed out of them. It’s a talent and I’ve always had it and I don’t suspect I’ll ever really get tired of flexing it. If brobelfish.com doesn’t get up and running soon, I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself. I spent the day near windows, feeling the breeze and contemplating every molecule of…
There’s this abandoned homestead on Highway 100 between the 64 junction and Chickasaw that I pass every time I drive to my parents’ house in Saltillo. Every time I speed by, my mind goes into overdrive thinking about what used to be there. What kind of house, what kind of people, what kind of stories. Where did the house go? Where are the people now? All that’s left are these two little brick walls framing…
For a few hours now, I’ve been nursing cup after cup of Jamaican coffee. I guess that’s what it’s called — it’s coffee plus brandy plus rum. That’s what The Internet calls it, anyway. I have to add milk and sugar because I don’t want hair on my chest. Well, more hair. It’s a delicious concoction for a chilly autumn night and it makes me want to wear ridiculous multi-colored socks and wear a slanket.…
Thanks, chums, for the CDs. I dig, a lot. Today I’ve been a big sack of lazy. I don’t know why it is that on the one day a week when I have a crap ton of time to get stuff done, I lie around in pajamas the longest. Oh, wait, yeah, I do know. Because I am human. Hear me doze. Also, I spent the morning recuperating from last night’s inaugural Yarbro–Dill potluck, which…
Old and busted: Sitting in my parents’ office in the squeaky desk chair, craning my neck upward to look at the monitor, cussing heartily at the plodding pace of their ancient Dell. The new hotness: Doing my nightly websurfing ritual sitting cross-legged on their couch with a laptop warming my crotch and a sleeping Daschund next to me. I made a whirlwind trip to Murfreesboro yesterday to celebrate an old friend’s emancipation from the ‘Boro…
So last week sucked on toast and, consequently, I busted up into this week with some sort of deluded optimism, thinking it would be better just by virtue of being new. Hoo boy. Ain’t that cute? Granted, I have been more or less in better spirits overall, but it’s still been a fucking trying week, what with the project from hell going apeshit and imploding on me, requiring a from-the-ground-up rebuild, among other things. (Seriously,…
Everyone’s talking about the heat. How can we not? It’s 95 degrees out and feels like 102. Last night I drove home to Midtown from Cordova with my windows down. It was midnight and it felt like I was sitting in bathwater. Even the breeze was hot, like breath. Right now I’m sitting here trying to psych myself up so I can leave the apartment and walk to my car. My car is black. It’s…
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