My son took that picture of me. I like it for that reason, of course. The other day I paid him 50 cents for every chord he could play on the ukulele. He played four: C, Am, F, G. I explained to him that there are a bunch of songs that we can play with those four chords, then proceeded to play him Let It Be by The Beatles and D'yer Maker by Led Zeppelin, but two examples that rely heavily on those chords.
I owe him 2 bucks.
I await the clock's ticking to 4pm, when I am free to go ride my bike up into the hills. It is what I look forward to every day now that the sun is finally out here. Perpetual gray does terrible things to my spirit, and I have so little fight in me, nowhere left to hide or run.
A friend texted me last night verifying that I had insurance and encouraging me to get a colonoscopy now that I'm 50 yrs old. Had I not been so rattled by the sudden thought of silently growing ass-cancer then I would have told him that I thought the entire purpose of this site was just such a prolonged and invasive examination. It's a sort of experiment in anal-gazing, but it sure beats talking to myself out loud about politics.
I am a news feed junky, truly. Not because I thirst for facts or truth, but because I am fascinated with the news cycle. I subscribe to all sorts of different publications, from across the political and social spectrum, and when a big story hits it is really something to watch them compete to own the narrative with their headlines alone. Some outlets are so very good at this. It makes me happy, to watch the manufacturing of the meaning of any given event. I studied this process in school a bit, but never at this level. I am from the older and now forgotten Generation X.
Ok, it's time for me to suit up and prepare to demand the pleasurable exhaustion of my lungs and legs and heart.
It's time to start wasting time again.
.
