Self Interest

There are times when I feel that blogging is an onanistic pursuit, a written pounding of the pudendum if you will. I’ve been blogging for a while and the only evidence of my production is the less than prodigious progeny of an ill equipped producer of dreck.

Be that as it may, I will continue my Sisyphean efforts to push my rock up my hill, and hopefully those that devour my liver won’t choke on its toxicity or its girth, We’ll see.

It is a sad state of affairs when a New Yorker is looking forward to traveling to Spo-vegas, but that is an accurate description of my life. Pickling upstairs with a Long Rifle 22 in my hands, cigarette at the ready, beer in hand, hunting the ubiquitous Wile E. Coyote, Genius, from a balcony, sounds oddly inviting. Four big screens, a well stocked bar, grandma and grandpa at the ready, is also inviting. Maybe the west coast isn’t so bad?

I will go, I will drink, and I will shoot. I will smoke, I will talk smack and I will enjoy. I will forget this week with 150 essays, with endless proctoring assignments, with snow and difficult commutes. It will all be the past and I will have passed it, like a kidney stone that really makes your cock hurt, but is transient. The bleeding stops, I hear. After all, life is just a series of people kicking your dick, right?

Thanks for witnessing me polishing my proverbial sword, for watching me tickle my literary pickle, for witnessing me jerkin’ my ideological gherkin and, for watching me wrestle my bald headed philosophical bastard. I think my alliterative and metaphorical work is done.

Spike

Ready For The Weekend

I'm over, as much as I can be, the brother issue, for now. I know the subject can be a downer and I apologize if I have brought you down. It wasn't my intent. I just wanted to express what losing a close family member (redundant) is like, and to document my emotions. If you enjoy this subject, or commiserate with my feelings, be sure to tune in in 37 days when I go into my annual funk around his birthday.

In the meantime, I am funkified for other reasons; the sturm and drang of dealing with a new job, new school, new demographics and new material. It's not all bad - the kids are smart and respectful, the administration is supportive and the union is strong. However, dealing with all the changes is challenging and sometimes, okay, alot of times, I struggle to meet the challenge.

It can be dificult to swallow hearing a teacher/author whine about their situation in an economy that is sucking gas, an economy that is laying off good people, an economy where people don't have health care. I feel the same way.

So, let me tell you about the noises I hear upstairs. My son, having been put to bed is up, I hear his pitter patter on the ceiling - he is visiting his big sister.

I went up, tucked them both back in, rubbed backs, tickled heads and whispered assurances in their ears. Whose going to tuck me in, rub my back and whisper assurances in my ear? And, why do I need it?

I think we all need to be assured. Whether it is our spouse, our boss, our President, nod to Obama, we all need assurances that things are going to be okay. It is okay to sleep tight, it will be okay in the future, it is okay to invest in our country.

If it isn't, what are our options?

Spike

This Week

This week is no different from any other. I lesson plan, I grade essays, I read.

This week is no different from any other. I miss Jon. I think about Jon. I look at pictures of Jon.

This week is no different from any other. I play with my kids, I tickle, I giggle, I laugh.

This week is no different from any other week. I weep, I laugh, I do it all.

This week is no different than any other week - I enjoy the journey.