Hello, Old Friend
Hey, how’s it going. Good? Cool. Awful? Understandable. Your stomach hurts? Welcome to the club. No, it’s not the club that the soda is named after. You’re thinking of the Kildare Street Club. No, there’s no surviving members. We just freely drink fizzy water. Yeah, I’m still on the Lemon-Lime. But I keep buying random flavors of La Croix, because I’m convinced that the flavors mean nothing. Yes, I know Stew Leonard’s is better. Not all of us can live in Danbury, you fuck.
I’m glad that we took this time to catch up.
And me? I’ve been doing okay. I’m down to two days a week at the store. My mustache smells like seaweed. I had a late lunch. I’ve been going to bed much earlier, like a responsible 34 year old. I started working in horse racing. Rachel started reading books. Willy watches birds on TV. I had a really bad sandwich three weeks ago. That’s basically all that’s going on. But I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been feeling a little empty inside. You see, ever since I finished my writing project, I’ve been stagnating. I have gotten no writing done, save for the occasional topical wrestling piece.
When I finished college, I kept my French textbook. There was still a whole half of the book that was untouched and I was determined to read it, do the exercises and not lose touch. Similarly, my iMac was loaded with a bootleg of Final Cut Pro. Even though I was no longer in film school, it wasn’t going to stop me from shooting and chopping things. It did.
When you’re no longer immersed in something on a daily basis, it tends to take the background in your conscious mind.
So what did I do to fill in my dead time? I researched college basketball. You might think that I’m making that up, but it’s absolutely true. I don’t even like basketball, but for a brief period of time, it took over my whole life. When that went away, I did a week-long stint as a gambler. But I’m not a very good gambler. In fact, it was really stupid to think that I could take gambling seriously. I tried. That’s not the life for me. But apparently, college basketball isn’t either, because I couldn’t make a living off of it.
So what the hell do I do now?
I guess I’ll start writing again.
The project is no longer a project. There’s no endgame, no goal, no fanfare, just content, content and more content. The way it should’ve been in the first place. I’m even going to refrain from counting days in the title, because I respect you as a person. Instead, I’ll just put a number at the bottom so I can keep track of just how much I’ve lost it. Will this last 382 days? 421? 10? Who the hell knows. If you know, please tell me. I hate not being told things, especially when it pertains to me.
What am I going to be writing? The same shit I always write about! Duh! The hell did you think I was gonna actually take this seriously? Fuck outta here. Future topics include but are not limited to:
– The logistics of potato transport
– How I am still unable to open soy sauce packets
– Why I was so invested in college basketball
– CVS receipts actually being 4 feet long
– Why old things don’t seem gross anymore
– I’m going to spend a morning watching Willy and narrating every move he makes
And of course, there’ll be filler haikus, fantasy sports roundups, The Untitled Word Count Thursday Thing, Friday Thoughts, Phantom Songs, Ad Nauseous and somehow, even more wrestling content. Buckle up, motherfuckers. It’s the law. Also, I’m back! Not because you need me, but because I need this!
Now…what the hell should I write about?