I’ve had an image in my head for about a week, a strong visual memory, of lying in my bed as a kid on a summer night with the window open, the air hot and still, looking at the blinking red light of a radio tower that was a couple of miles away and hearing a rumbling freight train. I remember that night like it was yesterday. This was mindwormed into me by a Bob Seger song.
Some parts of getting old aren’t as bad as I feared they’d be, others are worse, none are exactly what I thought.
I was a real jerk to someone at work today, someone who didn’t deserve it. I apologized sincerely but still feel like shit.
And I was just thinking I’d had a really good few days there. Hubris kills.
There was a big woodchipper droning a couple of blocks east of here until just a few minutes ago. It probably ran all day—a lot of trees were lost around here last night to the storm. Their natural deaths bother me almost not at all, whereas the one I had to cut down in my back yard earlier this year still haunts me.
The Sox just executed a perfect suicide squeeze against the Cubs, and I am well pleased.
When they publish those studies about how the internet has destroyed the ability to concentrate and ruins brains? They are talking about me.
It’s hard to believe what a 45 pound kid can do to an older toilet. I want to replace them all with the commercial/industrial models that don’t have a tank but use like twenty gallons of super high pressure water per flush and have giant, uncloggable downpipes.
I mean replace the older toilets, not the kids.
I have a hundred things I should be doing besides this.