Some people celebrate birthdays, cake, friends coming together, drunken foolishness, whatever. Me, I have reckonings. So, trade ya …
The word of the day, according to my nifty new Word of the Day Calendar, a gift this past Christmas, is “blogosphere.” (BLAH-guh-sfir). A noun. I am a bit foggy from all the sinus-blowout drugs I’m now on; I take medications under great protest, cuz they tend to mess with me so damn bad. That …
Earlier, having mastered two exceptional new words, I declared to my wife, who has professed her love for me at times, that I was brewing a cup of ante-jentacular tea in an effort to jump-start personal anabiosis. She barely glanced at me, walking instead into the other room and sitting down in front of the …
These last few days, and my own hometown’s appalling part in them, have battered my spirit into an ugly husk of itself, a balloon of despair inflated within a leathery suit of nerve-aching skin. I am not being merely melodramatic, as can certainly be my way; my beloved country’s slippery slope down into blind idiotic …
Hey, 2019, how’s about not being a fucking bastard, huh? Because after these past couple of humdinger years, I seriously don’t trust any of you any longer to get it right.
It is, once more, that most magical time of the year. Time for network television to again broadcast one of the most wildly effed up TV movies to ever pass itself off as family holiday entertainment. Rudolph. The non-reindeer deer with the bleating lightbulb for a nose. Every holiday season, Lisa and I tune in, …
So, to sum up: Thanksgiving, small family gathering, lovely, Luke home, talked to Taylor on the phone and heard Ellie coo, my mom settling into the noise and change of our busy house and smiling often, at the food, the love-insistent cats, the pie, oh the pie, happy, happy, whee! Because among those things I …
Trying to put my hands on these photos all day yesterday; now, as a new today is upon us, I find them, not at all where I remembered them to be. I’m not sure there’s not something awfully appropriate in that. So above is my old man as a young man, career Army, visiting family …
The English language has failed me, again. Because, you see, I am sick. And tired. I do not want to be something so wretchedly mundane. Not sick, and tired. Seriously, either sick or tired would be more than enough. But. I am sick, yes, a nasty little summer-cold bug has for several days made me …
Hurt and disillusioned, I’m giving up and just going the hell on to bed. I have sat quietly here for the past hour or so, straining for any hint of the brash martial sounds heralding the first engagements in our Second Civil War out there within the great American night, as has been loudly predicted …