I had to go grocery shopping this morning which must have infected my sleep somehow because I woke up every twenty minutes from 5 a.m. until I got up at 8 a.m. This wouldn’t have been quite so much suck if I had gotten to sleep before 1:30. This is a very long introduction into telling you how after watching the “Meet the Press” and then crying happy/sad tears over the Steubenville guilty verdict I took a nap at 10:30…
Every night this week I’ve had to fight the urge to cry myself to sleep, and let me tell you it has not been easy. Well, it’s been made a little easier by the fact that it takes a lot of effort to cry yourself to sleep. I’ve been known to cry myself awake. When I decide to get a good cry on, I really work it. It takes a lot of effort. That’s not to say it hasn’t taken…
“It was 135 pages that felt like 500.” This was one of the most astute, smart things ever said at my Rock & Roll Bookclub. My friend, Atom, was talking about a novella we had all read that took each of us an entire month to slog through. Yes, thirty days for only 135 pages. And this is exactly how I feel about Adam Johnson’s The Orphan Master’s Son, a 400ish page book that felt like 1200. It took me…
So this long piece of fiction I’ve been working on (I refuse to call it a book or a novel because that just makes me feel like an asshole) involves a woman who is making a greatest hits compilation that spans her entire singing career. As an exercise in procrastination I decided to make a bunch of Greatest Hits comps for my favorite artists. I keep them in a playlist folder called Greatest Hits According to Me. So far I’ve…
So yeah it’s Sunday & I was boring, as you probably gathered from the title. Do you want to know about the boringness? It involved oversleeping and missing the first 30 minutes of “Meet the Press;” eggs and bagels; napping to “Pretty in Pink;” and a few chapters of a cliche-ridden Touch & Go, our next Rock & Roll Bookclub pick. Also, I made the cookies you see pictured. They were delicious and I’m glad I left most of them…
First of all, before we begin I’ve decided (arbitrarily) henceforth and forevermore that if you were born during or after 1980 you are not a part of Generation X. I’m sorry if this upsets you, I wouldn’t want to be a Millennial or GenY either. But I’ve met a lot of you 1980s babies. I’m related to some of you 1980s babies. You are not GenX. It doesn’t mean you aren’t lovely people, you just aren’t my generation. The 1990s…
