Some of you will appreciate that the new running joke among multiple groups of friends is that my life is an elaborate falsehood crafted around the pivotal supposition that I am lying about having read Finnegans Wake.
No, I don't know how that works, either.
Anyway, I had a luscious grassfed beef heart for dinner last night from my local CSA, which I shared with a friend whom I've known since age 10 or so...meaning that he knew me when I was an awkward, unattractive nerdy kid with severe social dysfunction. And there we were, sharing the circulatory organ of a cow oh so many years later, still awkward nerds with social issues. That's been one of the most pleasant things about moving back to my hometown, for all its flaws: the ability to renew all those old friendships and to relive old times.
A lot of what we did was gossip...who's married, who's had an insane number of kids, who's failing miserably, who is triumphant. I wonder what they say about me when I'm not around...the punk rock poet laureate and nerd seductress who had so much potential to squander, who traveled wide only to come back home, who's done everything and nothing all at once. Who finds herself ten years later living in a studio apartment in intown with a chest freezer full of organ meat, a decent bit of savings, a good job, and big ol' plans.
Big ol' plans, like always. Not really existing in the "someday" because everything is immediate. The pursuit of eudaemonia. Excellence and glory.
That's what it's about, really. Ever fucking upward.
So says the awkward, attractive nerdy kid with mild social dysfunction, who has read Finnegans Wake, damn it.
No, I don't know how that works, either.
Anyway, I had a luscious grassfed beef heart for dinner last night from my local CSA, which I shared with a friend whom I've known since age 10 or so...meaning that he knew me when I was an awkward, unattractive nerdy kid with severe social dysfunction. And there we were, sharing the circulatory organ of a cow oh so many years later, still awkward nerds with social issues. That's been one of the most pleasant things about moving back to my hometown, for all its flaws: the ability to renew all those old friendships and to relive old times.
A lot of what we did was gossip...who's married, who's had an insane number of kids, who's failing miserably, who is triumphant. I wonder what they say about me when I'm not around...the punk rock poet laureate and nerd seductress who had so much potential to squander, who traveled wide only to come back home, who's done everything and nothing all at once. Who finds herself ten years later living in a studio apartment in intown with a chest freezer full of organ meat, a decent bit of savings, a good job, and big ol' plans.
Big ol' plans, like always. Not really existing in the "someday" because everything is immediate. The pursuit of eudaemonia. Excellence and glory.
That's what it's about, really. Ever fucking upward.
So says the awkward, attractive nerdy kid with mild social dysfunction, who has read Finnegans Wake, damn it.
VIEW 25 of 41 COMMENTS
millerman325:
Reading Finnegans Wake is like running a marathon without the benefit of endorphins.
krass_of_nod:
you're back, so nice to see you've come around again. I was very sad that you left. May be a bit late on this, but welcome back all the same. 