He believed in holding on. He believed in keeping up. He believed in causing as little trouble as possible, which meant, he supposed, that he believed in squeaking by. He believed in English Breakfast tea and egg-white omelettes. He believed in pocket watches and comfortable shoes. He believed in going to bed at a reasonable hour. He believed in exercising three times a week. He believed there was a mystery at the center of the great but why-is-there-anything called the universe, and that it did not speak to us, or not in a language we could understand, and that it was an insult to the mystery to pretend that it did. He believed nevertheless that his sister was watching him from somewhere just out of sight, that even if her affection for him had died along with her body, her attention — her interest — had not. He believed that his life would make sense to him one day.
-Kevin Brockmeier in The Illumination
A guy carrying a flute case and green kicks asked the person on the other end of the cellphone: “At least the bars are open today, right?”
2011 was good to me, but may I be greedy for a minute and ask for an even awesomer 2012? Because I’d like that.
I’d also like you to have an awesome(r) 2012.
Happy New Year!
It’s Boxing Day. I live in
I met a friend for coffee. We sat outside in the sun while we drank it and neither of us complained.
Disco ball bless mild winter days.
Someone, all hepped up on caffeine, stopped by my office to
put off doing something tedious chat. He was wearing a “grunge is dead” tee-shirt tucked into tapered khakis. No pleats. At least, I don’t think the khakis were pleated.
I didn’t look too hard because I honestly didn’t know where to look.
Barça lost. Boo.
RM won. Boo.
There are 25 games left in the season. I haven’t decided if this merits a boo yet.
Athletic lost. Boo.