downfall of civilization

“You know,” I said, “I must be getting older. My idea of an impulse buy used to be something like ‘Hey, look, a new CD.’ Now, I’ll walk into a store and go, ‘Ooh… boxers.’ ”

When did I become old? I used to watch cartoons on Saturday.

I was pulling out of a parking space in my apartment lot yesterday afternoon while on the way to the golf course. I was already running late, so naturally, I bumped a car. It was a minor thing at most; simply one rear bumper against another—that’s what they’re there for, isn’t it?

Bought a new shirt yesterday. When I put it on this morning, I gave it the once-over after I pulled off the tag and the sticker, because inevitably, I’ll walk around all day with something on my back like it was some manufacturer’s version of a “kick me” sign.

I had a fairly standard headache, but it was something that I could fight through. I didn’t think much of it, until I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. The blinds in the office windows were all open, and the sun happened to be at just the right angle to reflect off all the cars in the parking lot. Right into my eyes.

And I swear to all that is holy, the inside of my head screamed. Actually screamed. I’m not kidding, I actually heard a noise.

Screw narcotics. You want to really feel like you’re drugged? Try insomnia. It’ll mess you up but good.

IKEA is one of those stores that you have to be careful entering, because not only will you find what you’re looking for; you’ll find about five hundred other items that you need but didn’t realize you needed.

Turns out that during that rainy night, some genius decided to head the wrong way down my one-way street and crash headlong into a telephone pole.

A size 13EE shoe is not easy to find in a store. And given that any pair of shoes that I buy will be the only pair of sneakers that I wear, sometimes for years, proper sizing is crucial. But today, while trying to find a new pair that I liked enough to buy, something occurred to me as I tried on two brand new shoes: I’m twenty-seven years old. I don’t need to leave enough room for my feet to grow.

At first I was going to write something about the anniversary, but I realized, as we got closer to the date, and especially after I did the concert, that I really didn’t know what to feel about it. I was confused, hurt, angry, morose, and just plain annoyed at everything. The politicization, the pseudo-patriotism, everything about it just kinda made me sick.

Whew, now that I got that big entry all handled and done with (I’ve been picking at it a little bit over the last couple months and finally just decided to scrap it, start over and write it all in one sitting), here is a little update for my life:
I suppose there isn’t a whole […]