I’m an anniversaries kind of guy. History major. Names, dates, places, and times. I have a theory about time being a geographical function because of the orbit of the world and subscribe to the more common theory that places are…
Tag: The Long Tunnel
We Got Lost in New York
The summer is coming but it can’t come fast enough, can’t pass fast enough, can’t make up its mind about coming or going or raining or pouring and there’s a sense I have that I should be better than this…
Mother, May I
It’s easy to forget what this year was supposed to be about. I don’t even mean all that long ago, before my life caved in and I was left staring at the daily wreckage of my own dreams. I mean…
The Timelessness of Green Fields
There is a blue sign at the top of the hill by the roadside gone T-shaped and it says No Sledding and it is the kind of sign that shows the wear and age of countless police officers standing by…
She Said
She said no one talks the way that you do, sees the way that you do, understands the things that are really going on. She said we are one-eyed people in the land of the blind, we are ignorant of…
Cruel and Unusual Month
It’s hard to read the posts I made in this space from last April without getting a little upset. There was a lot of looking forward then, especially a year and a day ago when I looked back on Nationals…
Pandora (1998-2011)
Yesterday, at 3:00 PM Pacific time, Pando’s wonderful and heartfelt caretakers for the better part of a year drove her to the vet and said goodbye for the last time. She’d been sick and on painkillers for about a month,…
What Do You Expect?
Mariners’ record this year: 2-2 Mariners’ record this year with me watching: 0-2 Mariners’ record this year without me watching: 2-0 I might want to keep track of this over the course of a season, but it might be too…
The Nature of Lonely
There is a difference between being lonely and being alone. Lonely gets down in your bones. Lonely is that feeling that tells you it’s empty, it’s over, it’s all meaningless, and it always was. Lonely isn’t a feeling at all,…
Ten Ninety-Nine
The Raritan River flows gently southward, bedecked on either side by paths, one cracked red asphalt raised high above the waterline, the other muddy disintegrating soil strewn with the exposed roots of sickly trees. On one side, western, the vantage…