Waiting for the holidays to be over
Her: I read your blog, the one about your wife and the five dollars. Are you a writer?
Me: No, I’m a lawyer, by trade. You?
Her: I’m a journalist. You write beautifully. You should do it again.
Met a woman, recently, that came across my blog, somehow. It’s a different world now.
When I first started this blog, there wasn’t Facebook, Instagram, or any social media to speak of.
Now it’s too easy to find and know everything about me so I have to be much more careful.
I dated a journalist once. That was an unmitigated disaster.
Seven months before Alison got sick, told you that I was stopping this blog. Didn’t tell you that it was because Alison was pregnant – after all, we lost so many babies, why jinx this one too?
Besides, we were planning on making major changes.
I was going to work remotely but pare down my workload, as was she. The two of us were going to sell the apartment and move out to NJ to raise the kid with green grass and shade.
I was gonna write more fiction. The thing with writing is that your mind can only crank out so much quality stuff before you’re just churning.
That’s part of why I don’t post every day; I’d rather have one or two good posts than a series of crappy ones. So, I stopped the blog to focus on writing.
In the end, that was the one pregnancy that stuck and we thought we’d finally be ok.
But it all turned to shit anyway.
Now, I just have zero – absolutely zero – desire to write do anything beyond this blog, hang with the kid, and run the gym.
And even then, it’s always the same thing, a blur of people and things that I barely remember.
Voltaire once said that, Madness is to think of too many things in succession too fast, or of one thing too exclusively.
If that’s the criteria, then I’m clearly starkers. Clearly.
I’m dreaming all the time again – some good, some less so.
Saw my family recently. My brother’s back in town; his girl’s coming in later on this week. She’s sweet. My dad woulda liked her. I hope they end up together.
Met a stylish young woman on the ride home. She wore bell bottoms and shoes with sapphires on them. She thought the kid was adorbs.
But I’m not me right now so I just thanked for the company and carried my sleepy son home. She laughed and waved goodbye to us. The kid waved back, sleepily.
Him: I’m so tired.
Me: Good. Then maybe you’ll have some nice dreams.
Him: She was pretty. Is she your friend?
Me: Maybe in a different life.
It’s Thanksgiving soon.
I just want the holidays to be over.
Location: with my mom, telling her that I loved her
Mood: dreaming
Music: damn that’s stylish. Smiling, don’t pay attention to the mileage (Spotify)
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