I’m sorry I haven’t written in so long. I’ve been running and running since I got back from P.S. and I haven’t really stopped. Ow, my legs. How was your Thanksgiving? I had Steaksgiving. There was lots of meat. Did I tell you this already? I don’t know. I’m old and befuddled. How’s T.F.P. coming? (avoiding releasing any spoilers) I’m feeling good about what I’m doing with M. I have some goals. I feel I am working towards meeting them. Maybe 2017 will be the year I finish my novel. AGAIN. No. It WILL be the year I finish my novel. AND sell it. MOTHERFUCKER.
I’m trying to figure out if all this fat on my stomach is a baby or not. I squeeze it and it seems pretty solidly fat. No room for an infant. Time will tell, I guess. It could be that I’m just waiting around to discover I’m simply overweight. I guess I will ‘do better’ with my body starting soon. New year, new beginnings, and what not. Cliché, but hey.
Well, it’s the end times of a not great year now, isn’t it? Your marriage was a bright spot. One good thing. That was this year, right? Seems so long ago. Me and Fred Armisen hanging out on a plane. Good times.
Speaking of good times, there was a cross-eyed bartender the other night. Friendly enough but we didn’t know where to look at him. Then there were butterflies all over the ceiling and upside down red Christmas trees. We sat under those trees and ordered gin drinks. And ordered gin drinks. Lots of drinks. There was an influx of gorgeous human beings and the magnification of how we didn’t belong among them. Me in my Drake “Hotline Bling” Christmas sweatshirt and jeans. But you best believe that when the DJ played Hotline Bling that we stood up and danced at our dinner table and when he mixed in Souljah Boy at the end, well, let’s just say the teens would’ve laughed at my attempts. The drinks carried on until we were debating if we should go to a dance club or a strip club which was my cue to know that it was probably time to call an Uber and I sort of did that. It was a very good time.
As I said, the new year approacheth and it means I have to look at where I’ve been and where I am and where I’m going and it’s not fun to look there. But I am. I have to. My mom said she might volunteer to pet cats at a local shelter a few times a month in the new year. This is a side of my mom I wasn’t expecting. I thought she was more the ‘fuck cats’ kind of person. I guess even those we’ve known our entire lives can surprise us. I hope I can do the same.
Oh, I want to publicly state that I want to try to blog more in the coming year. Even if it’s just one paragraph a week. Seems attainable. We’ll see…
Anyway. I miss you and Josh. I wish you cement hugs, ample pies and music that unwinds the knots in you. I’ve refallen in love with 70’s soft rock….“Yacht Rock” if you will. I find myself knowing all the words and it comforts me and brings a quiet peace. I hope you can find something similar whenever you need it.
Love and miss you.