As I’ve often been known to say, change is the only constant. This has perhaps never felt more true than this week, which is simply over-brimming with upheaval and possibility. Forget ungainly metaphors about baby steps and windows and doors.…
Category: A Day in the Life
The Beat(ing) Goes On
I am still sick. Quite sick, in fact. No more sick, perhaps, but certainly no less. Today, possibly, my head will clear enough for me to begin a deluge of posts that, like so much nasal discharge, has been welling…
The Sickness
Been sick since late Thursday. Still sick today. Going back to work, still sick or not, tomorrow. This explains the lack of everything. The thing about being sick is that one suddenly has tons of unbudgeted time, but the energy…
Historical Perspective
My Dad and I have a running debate about whether there’s reason for hope these days or not. In general, not in specific. We buck all kinds of generational assumptions by him being the one who believes there’s hope, and…
When I’m 28
My birthday isn’t for two and a half months yet, but I found myself pondering a record today and wondering when exactly (also if) I would break that record. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the day after my birthday?…
The Market Will Sell
Every month, almost like clockwork, the Powell Street BART station will change over its entire advertising schema. It’s not quite the changing of the guard, but it’s at least as colorful. In addition to the standard raft of billboards throughout…
Wasted Weekend
I am so frustrated. With myself. I often think that the answer to everything is time. Time heals all things, right? Wrong, I know, but at least time should give one the time to do things. This seems almost tautological.…
Distribution
On my way into work this morning, I nearly finished the latest book I’m reading, Paradise by the late Donald Barthelme. I will finish it on the train home tonight, just two days after finishing the last book I read,…
Next Stop, Orinda
I am out of energy. Just plain out of gas. Today did its best possible job of getting me to eat my words. At least in some respects. In others, quite the other way, there was an air of affirmation…
Existence is Futile?
On the train into work this morning, I finished reading The Quiet Girl, Peter Hoeg’s first novel in about a decade. I adored the book (unsurprising given where Hoeg rates on my list of authors), but it was not flawless.…