I can tell you right from the start that this is going to be
a short post. I woke up later than usual (8:00am) and on my usual brainstorming
ride over to the coffee shop, my mind was quiet. Aside from the thoughts of all
I needed to accomplish today, I couldn’t think of one solid theme or idea that
I could turn into 700 words. This paragraph that I’ve wasted consists of only
75. I’ve got it, I will create six more 100 word paragraphs, completely
unrelated, or possibly identical. Who knows. Six more words I have to type.
My mother hosted my 38th annual birthday party on
Friday night. It wasn’t my actual birthday, which is tomorrow, but it was nice
to get a good portion of the family together and actually be able to celebrate
any part of my life. I’ll be turning 38, which is closer to 40 than I’d prefer,
but I don’t often think I look or act my age, so I have that going for me. Back
to the party: we had lasagna, hummus, various crackers and snacks, and of
course cake. Afterwards I went to the gym with my cousin to burn.
Speaking of the gym, I seem to go through phases when it
comes to wanting to go. With the new job, being on my feet so much, it’s
incredibly difficult to want to run, which I have really cut down to about once
per week. Once is still more than I like running, but not what I should be
doing to feel healthy. I love being
able to eat as much as I want of anything I see, and running made that
possible. I still lift nearly every day, but that just doesn’t quite have the
same effect as cardio.
One time, Mike Tambornino and I tried to blow up the cliff
that overhangs the Mississippi river at a place we referred to simply as “The
Monument” which is at the west most end of Summit Avenue in St. Paul. His
father was a pyrotechnics expert, who put on shows all over the state like the
Taste of Minnesota, and he stored large amounts of high-explosives in his
attic. We made a bomb by putting black powder and magnesium into a coffee can
and using a couple rolls of duct tape to pressurize it. It was loud, but didn’t
work.
The team that I played for yesterday in a softball
tournament did not do very well. All we had to do was win one to stay alive.
All we couldn’t do was lose the first two, which we did. The first game was a
perfect example of how you should not play the game. We scored zero points, and
the collaborative effort of the whole defense was one big error. The second
game was close; a real pitcher’s duel. We went into extra innings tied 2-2,
whereupon we fell apart and gave up five runs, forever sealing our fate. Word.
Tomorrow I go back to the laminating factory for the first
time in nearly three weeks. It’s only for a few days. I’m actually pretty
grateful that I have that to fall back on, because my schedule is pretty spotty
at Levy for the next month or so. Without the laminating, I wouldn’t be able to
pay my bills and surely I would end up homeless or selling my body for science
or even worse, selling a kidney on the black market. Are you still reading this
nonsense? I apologize, but you will have to endure just one more story.
I was unique as a drinker. On more than a few occasions, I
was able to drink past blackout, come around to sanity, and continue on
drinking throughout the night and into day, at which point I could keep
drinking to a steady buzz. Yep, I could stay up all night on alcohol, without
the use of cocaine or meth. More often than not, it would get me in some sort
of trouble including something that has aptly been named “The Vincident”
because of the gravity of the situation I alone created while on an
all-nighter. But that’s another story.
