1,117 Days
Posts
Old Beginnings...
Life is a weird thing… It is this dance of things that will inevitably happen to us, fought against how we will react to them. [Phlip note: isn’t it weird how we often use the word “inevitable,” but I have never heard the word “evitable” used in my 38years?] In 2015, I had some defeatable health issues that I spent the necessary time, money and medical attention addressing. It took until the end of the yea to be cleared of it all. 2016, I rediscovered my pen--… err, keyboard and ran with it (more on that Friday). I also got the clearance from my doctors from the above situation to resume vigorous physical activity. 2017 was my year. Cleared for action and newly motivated to eat right and attempt to live forever, I started walking/running and eventually bought a bicycle to get my physique under control. And I threw off 40 pounds in 9 months. October, we consolidated households and life became easier still. No back-and-forth, no maintaining two sets of bills and
True Story©... The Heist
It is finally beginning to come together, it makes total sense now! First, we learned that Rudolph was a dope fiend. Then we learned that Santa is a kingpin 364 days of the year and that Rudolph is basically a slave to his own damned dealer. But this shit gets deeper. In addition to stewing for the past year on the revelation that Santa is an asshole scumbag dopeman, I also live with the fact that writing still COSTS me more than it makes me, I wake up every day and go work with people who do not share my drive and that often frustrates me. I was watching The Wire, and I had myself an idea. Omar Little was kind of like the Robin Hood of the whole thing. He was so against the dope dealers that he sustained himself ROBBING them. That way, he padded his own pockets while preventing them from moving filth in the hood for profit. [ Phlip note : He also didn’t curse, but I possess no such fucking hangups] Anyway… Santa is the dope man and has be
It's Christmas Night...
See-through Sunday… On a Monday. 8:20pm is when my fingers hit the keys on this one. I have been awake since 6, and even that was on only about 6 hours of sleep, with reasoning for which I can only blame myself. I have no work tomorrow and could crash out RIGHT now, but I also don’t want to wake up at 3am, so I am pushing through it. I moved into this house in August 2009 and closed on it 12 weeks later. This is my 9 th Christmas under this roof, my 6 th one as a father. Somehow this one feels different. I spent it with both my existing and incoming families. I woke up and had to wait on the babies – one of whom is actually 19 – to wake up so we can start opening gifts. We made said babies breakfast, a tradition in my family. I am at the age where it is not about what is in the boxes, but for the reaction of everyone else in the room when they open theirs. The magic of that littler one’s face when she woke up next after me and sees what Santa left her,