Tuesday, August 17, 2004

I used to love the Olympics. Even now, soaked in commercials and soft-biographies with too-loud crap music, some parts of some Olympians are remarkably easy to watch. I quit blogging (twice) for a while. I felt like I ran out of things to write. Actually, I hit a rut in the road of life, and I'm happy to write that I'm out of the rut, and even happier to write that this rut was extremely short-lived, all things considered.

A change of scenery has done me a world of good: as you know I'm on the 8th floor. Actually, 8 has played a big part of my life. My favorite Olympics: Seoul '88. Best year of my life: I was 8. Number I like to wear when playing soccer: 8. In high school I was tangentially in a clique of ne'er-do-wells who all had the number 8 in their phone numbers. It was mystifying to me that the nominal leader of the pack would point out such an uncool mundanity (because he was nothing if not cool), but nevertheless... You couldn't be in the clique unless you had an 8 in your phone number. My phone number's suffix was 5371. So it follows I was only tangentially in, and I ne'er ne'er did well. My two (soon to be three) best friends in all of North America and Jurisprudence (though we may not always agree on either) live at 888 8th ave., apartment 8T. Before you try looking for them, remember that North America is a pretty damn big place, and these people love to shoot guns and throw ninja stars. And they have not one, not two, but eight feral cats in their apartment. The number of lovers I've had is 8. Or thereabouts. I had two skateboards with four wheels each, for a total of 8 skateboard wheels. I get up around 8. It seems like 8 years since I started looking for a job. I can eat about 8 ribs before I have to take a breather, 8 minutes is about as long as I can run without getting tired.

Like I said I quit blogging for a while because I thought I'd run out of things to write. I was foolish for thinking that. In the time I stopped blogging: I learned how to do some house-framing. Somebody at my mom's work died of the flesh-eating bacteria. I moved to a new city (how's that for "nothing to write about?"). My dog began this weird habit of whining for no particular reason, which gives me some pause given the unreported seismic activity around here. I sold my little truck. I bought a DeWalt 18V cordless drill (not the XRP) and started building treehouses for a part-time living. I got over my dread of impending biological warfare, but substituted for it a dread of perpetual unemployment.

I'll be carrying on this blog for a while, I hope. I may get bored with it, but it won't be nearly as serious as I've tried to make the other blogs. No point in it, really. I'll post again later.

1 Comments:

Blogger Curious G said...

You'll be blogging for a long time W--in the end, blogging is a good way for your friends to keep abreast of the basic events in your life; and it's also a nice place to vent.

There's nothing wrong with taking a hiatus from blogging here and there, but as this is the second or third (I forget?) time you've retired and then re-ignited your blog, I think you should keep it up indefinately.

August 18, 2004 at 11:32 AM  

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