Friday, January 15, 2021
Waiting for Trump to leave the White House is like waiting for ibuprofen to kick in when you have period cramps. Which I do. Plus pinkeye. What the hell. I manage all adolescence without pinkeye and get it as an adult. Probably after taking Phi to the Dr. in San Antonio. They say doctor’s offices are the dirtiest places. Anyway.
Something mysterious has happened on the Peacock front. They’re starting to show “big” games again. They’re not advertising as such, but they’re showing up as replays. I wonder if so many people cancelled they realized they screwed up, and this is their way to quell the PR nightmare they created with their little bait and switch.
Yesterday, Christopher and I were watching the Brighton / Man City game and the commentator said that football has been a source of national unity during Covid. That it’s brought people energetically together during this difficult year. Naturally they were talking about England. But that’s exactly right. It’s been a constant source of mental relief for Christopher and I. So when they just took it away without warning it felt like someone ripping our wings. Or maybe just one wing — with an overwhelming feeling of WHY.
Even as I write this I’m kinda rolling my eyes at myself. These are champagne problems, I know. That said, we have a Tottenham / Fulham game to watch! Christopher is at the end of the couch looking all handsome in his vintage Tottenham jersey I got him for Christmas!
Tuesday, January 19, 2021
I’ve not chartered a private jet in the last 24 hours. I’m not writing from a cabana in the Seychelles. I did not strike it rich via scratch offs. SIGH. As birthdays go, it was pretty lame. The only thing I really wanted to do was go on a hike but the kids were being buttholes and Christopher was the color of an egg yolk with allergies so a stroll thru the forest would’ve been torture. But I did get some cheese enchiladas and watched The Witches (2020) which I expected to hate but secretly thought was pretty good.
This morning I woke in a foul mood and forced myself to exercise because if I didn’t stir up some oxygen and serotonin, I was gonna kill someone.
I honestly feel like the world is on edge waiting for the inauguration and a peaceful, safe transfer of power. That vibrating anxiety is definitely in the air. But there’s also something else. The promise of new beginnings. And if I’d scratched off a million bucks yesterday, I wouldn’t charter a jet, rent a cabana, or go to the Seychelles. There’s not too much I’d change actually.
God, please protect the inauguration tomorrow. Surround our leaders and keep them safe. Please let this nation heal. Signing off and singing with orphan Annie: The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow . . .
Sunday, January 24, 2021
As a fiction writer, it is my stance I can write whatever the fuck I want. As a librarian, it is my stance you can read whatever the fuck you want. I think it’s really really fucked up to shame people for what they’re reading.
If someone wants to read Mein Kampf, which they do, I smile, check it out, tell them its due date and to have a nice day. I do not say you shouldn’t read that. BECAUSE YOU DON’T SHAME PEOPLE FOR WHAT THEY READ. It is my stance as a reader to cheer people on when they pick up a book and love it. If you find the need to criticize someone’s reading choices as ‘problematic’ then write your own goddamn book.
You are reading excerpts from SHELF LIFE: My Pandemic Diary.
Find the previous post HERE.