Fail, fail, fail, fail, succeed

Monthly Archives: June 2022

Well, That’s a Relief

”The goal is to not know what it’s about for as long as possible. Intentionality is to be kept at bay.”

– George Saunders, on writing short stories

Oh My God

I think I’ve officially arrived at the point in my life where I’ve begun thinking, If there’s something you want to do, better do it now.

There’s not that many good days left.


There are things in life we can not change. Bad things. Cruel things. Unjust things.

Friction occurs in trying to figure out how we’re going to process this stuff. How do you handle the terrible shit in this world that’s beyond your control? War, hatred, violence, racism, the lust for and perversion of power? How do you square that circle?

My solution, one that I’m not particularly proud of, is a two-pronged approach. Focus on the micro and disengage with the macro.

I have control over how I treat the people I come in contact with in my day-to-day life. So I focus on the micro, trying, as best I can, to be a positive influence on those around me. You know, being kind, doing things for others, smiling for Christ sake. Shit like that.

As for the macro? I can’t change world events. Can’t stop wars. Can’t end racism or hate or xenophobia or man’s seemingly endless capacity for cruelty. So I just let it go. Have to. Otherwise I’ll waste what precious little time I have left.

I can try to make life a little better for the people I come in contact with, create some art, and that’s about it.

I can, I think, live with that. At least that’s what I tell myself. Hope you figure out a good strategy for yourself.

Figuring out how to live in this world ain’t easy.

ER Confidential (Part 1)

Core body temp 30 Celsius. That’s 86 degrees. Heart rate of 30. Been that way long enough for the body to recalibrate itself into a coma. Someone noticed and thought it might be a good time to call EMS.

A man goes to his daughter’s graduation, steps away for a moment, comes back and drops like a 200 lb sack of potatoes. Unknown intoxicant. Arrives pulseless. Doesn’t die, but came closer than he’ll ever know. Probably won’t end up being a funny anecdote she’ll enjoy telling.

Car accidents, overdoses, dislocated limbs, subdural hematomas, rape, people near death with so many things wrong you’re not even sure what caused what. Patients handcuffed to stretchers, every permutation of mental illness you can imagine, and some you can’t.

Well, you get the idea.

Just another shift.

Time for a cocktail.


I don’t know. Er, um, I might not be done. With this blog, I mean.

Nothing wrong with dipping my toe back in the water, you know, just to see how it feels.

Gonna keep it hush-hush, though. On the QT, so to speak.

Don’t tell anyone.