So, I’m not one to look too closely at how many people frequent this blog or what they do here…HOWEVAH, this one made me laugh a little. Yes, I used to have a wife. And yes, there was a divorce. The Tumblr search function sucks massive balls, so the likelihood is you didn’t find the results you wanted. BUT IT’S ALL THERE.
Also, if anyone actually cares about shit in my personal life, you can always send me an email. I’m kinda nice, actually. I might answer.
Izzy-at-grandparents update: Text conversation
Mom: She’s very sweet!
Me: Whoa. You gotta clean her nose.
Mom: I know! I was going to ask you about that, what is that stuff?
Me: Dirt mixed with snot that dries and crusts on there.
Mom: Seriously? Gross.
Me: All part of the bulldog charm.
I hate (but also kinda love) how much I identify with Carcetti.
I have been threatened, via anonymous message, that if I don’t stop posting “emo” shit that I am (gasp!) in danger of losing a reader.
Thusly, to keep this very valuable member of my blogging community engaged, I will cease to show any sign of exhibiting emotions or normal human “feelings” and convert to a sociopathic conveyer of snark and misanthropy in order to keep this person happy.
I am sure you understand. I would NEVER want to disappoint someone to whom I provide literally MINUTES of free entertainment per week. The blogger/reader trust is too great to risk losing.
Love,
Mike
I was standing on the packed train this morning with cold medicine running through my body, the new Craig Finn album playing through my earphones, and I had a “How the fuck did I get here moment.” If you had told me one year ago, or hell, even six months ago, that I’d be living and working in Chicago in January 2012, I wouldn’t have believed you. I didn’t think I had it in me. Such was the degree of stasis in my former life. I’m not quite sure what got into me; where I found the strength and motivation to make a drastic move in such a short amount of time. Sometimes it’s still weird to me that it actually happened. But here I am.
Tomorrow marks four weeks here. Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, I suppose, but long enough to make this feel real. Leading up to the move, I had a vision of how my life here would look. In some ways it was accurate, in other ways it was pretty far off. Some of the things I thought would be difficult have actually been quite easy, and some of the things I looked forward to the most have been much harder. Such is life.
It’s not perfect, it’s not ideal, but it’s better than what I had, and more importantly, it’s what I chose. I don’t regret it for a minute. Each day the novel gets closer to becoming the routine and I come closer to accepting that this is my life now. Is this what I want? It’s too early to tell, but for the first time in a long time, I no longer feel that everything is passing me by.
This post was brought to your by Sudafed and insomnia.
Jailhouse Fingers McGee.
I don’t like the sound of that at all.
And where are they going? Subway.
Fuck.That.
That is exactly why I prefer to eat alone.
Tom Waits - Downtown Train
Woke up sounding like Tom Waits. My ears keep popping too, but I feel fine otherwise. Well, also I have some soul crushing fatigue, but I blame that more on a lack of sleep than anything.
