“ . . . that musty, small-town video shop set up in the dining room of an old house where someone was likely murdered.”
Sometimes a song starts as a chord that a guitar player can’t shake, or a phrase that a songwriter finds profound.
This chair belonged to my grandfather.
I know this falls well short of being a profound statement, but this is a strange time of the year.
Of course, I did not have social media when I was born (in the 70's, a number which is ancient to some, and is causing others to collectively roll their eyes), and therefore could not document the occasion, but I can imagine the type of thing I might’ve posted.
"The broad smile returned to her face, and she giggled, a grating, mechanical sound, like a hinge starting to lose its lubrication. “You’re a funny man, Mr. Carlton! Very funny man.”
When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to become a professional baseball player. I wanted to make a living playing a game that I loved. . .
“The Y is like a museum of the aging process.”
. . . And THEN I started to wonder if we're ALL ghosts to each other. . .
￼Parents need a master light switch by the front door. That way we don't have to wander around the entire house shutting off lights. We can just throw one large, Alcatraz-style breaker, a metal beast that's two feet wide and takes two hands to pull down. Imagine the penultimate satisfaction of grabbing that steely handle, … Continue reading The Master Switch
In which I am shamed by the fact that I need digital encouragement to perform a function as fundamental as moving. Or something.
I don't mean to brag, but I've been on quite the running streak lately. Most days this week, as a matter fact. On a slightly related subject, every time I get about a quarter mile into my run, I turn around to see a figure in a black, hooded robe and carrying a large sickle, floating about … Continue reading Runner’s High?
I didn’t make the 40 posts by my 40th birthday, a fact which surprises no one and for which many are rejoicing. I did, however, write one further (insufferably long and possibly rambling) post before I ride off into the sunset to shop for a recliner with plenty of lower back support and to find a … Continue reading The Cabinet (aka: 40by40 Admission of Failure)
There’s a medical practice here in Louisville that specializes in a certain “medical issue” that is only applicable to men. They advertise quite frequently, boasting that they ONLY handle said issue. I won’t mention the issue specifically; those who live here will likely know the practice of which I speak, and others can use your imagination. … Continue reading An Unnecessary Moment with Unsolicited Medical Practice Advice from an Unqualified-Yet-Concerned Citizen // #1
I remember clearly the bathroom medicine and sink cabinets at my home growing up. They contained what seemed to a young, healthy, immortal guy like me an inordinate amount of pills, tablets, ointments, etc. Some were new-ish, some had expired in decades gone by. To be sure, in retrospect, some were surely mine; cherry cough … Continue reading Carrying on the Medicine Cabinet Tradition