Life is fine here. Nobody's too sick, the dog quit having seizures. I'm not even hating on February as much as I've led you to believe. Feb's all right, just, you know, mildly irritating. My car runs. The coffee I've been drinking for the last half hour is still pretty hot. So writing suffers. There's no drama, I'm not pissed at anyone, not elated with shape of my eyebrows, not sick with sadness (that was last month).
Yesterday I got talked into signing up for Skype, an online phone-call thing. Calling and talking to people on the computer, my face all blown up on their laptop. Their giant face on mine. It seemed superfluous, because, um e-mail? Facebook chat? An actual telephone that doesn't shove your sleepy face and unwashed hair into someone's computer monitor? But I did it because he kept insisting.
And now today I'm thinking about things that I've neglected or thought I grew out of that are important...
First, hanging out with my friend Fred. He was one of my closest friends in high school and we did a lot of pointless hanging out. And yesterday we Skyped and basically hung out for 15 minutes. This time we both had kids climbing all over us, but we kinda just sat around, chillin, while looking at each other on the computer. It was weird, but instantly comforting. I write a lot of stories about young people and their insecurities, awkwardness, angst, but in reality, hanging out with Fred reminded me that it didn't all suck. (This is him, he's a photographer. Call me if you need someone to take a picture of you jumping through the forest.)
Second, candy bars. Why, if I crave a slab of chocolate with hazelnuts, would I stare at the candy rack with chaste longing, like a retired arthritic longshoreman in the front row of a strip club. It was a dollar and fifteen cents and it totally made my morning. A candy bar now and then is really fucking good. And not illegal or potentially disease-ridden.
. A big part of why February is pfft. (And also perhaps why I spent 2 minutes in the penalty box last Friday night.)
Fourth, totally offensive humor. Andrew Dice Clay, Sam Kinison, and this guy
, who makes me laugh like a kid hunkered down with a sticky magazine in the back of the bus, and also directly led to my gesturing at my crotch and saying "Turn THIS" when Jim asked me to turn up the volume on American Idol last night.
And, lastly, weight lifting. I'm doing it again.
Looking back at a couple of these, I think the inversion in the Missoula valley has caused a dangerous build-up of testosterone.