BEING SIXTY: THERE'S WORK... AND THEN THERE'S WRITING

Whether or not I become an overnight literary 'success' -- I'd find it almost impossible to retire. From the next book, the next short story, the next stanza or the next article. From a way of life that has taken its toll -- on my marriage, my social life (whatever the hell that is), and even a good chunk of my sanity.  Even through an open door I see chains.  And the chains are paragraphs and stanzas; smells and voices and screams and laughter.

I can quit the education business.  But I can't stop listening.  To the voices in my head that demand I take dictation.

Which of my jobs can I afford to lose?  At school, I'm at least sane.  And when that's gone...?

Fuck.  I just want to stop.  And smell the coffee.  Or the fish.  Or whatever it is my wife is wearing.  Before it's too fucking late.

How do you like my new haircut?

I know one of the things my wife bought me for Christmas.  (Yeah.  I peeked.) 

It's a Seinfeld trivia game. There's a DVD component.  And probably a game board.  (I wonder if the player pieces look like Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer?) 

Hey... board games in Seinfeld.  Well, there was Trivial Pursuit in the Bubble Boy episode.  (Remember 'Moops'?)  And Jerry was playing Scrabble with his mother in one episode.  Chess showed up when Jerry was having an internal dialogue between his brain and his dick.

The only problem with this gift is that I'll have no one to play against.  Unless it comes with an online version.

FROM THE JOURNAL OF NJOMBO McPIKE....

Two weeks until Christmas break.

Now, I don't exactly 'celebrate' Christmas.  Oh, I get a tree and buy presents and get drunk and eat turkey.  But I don't spend any time thinking about the goings-on in Palestine two thousand years ago.  I do appreciate the time away from school, however.  And if it took the birth of a fictional character to accomplish all this, who am I to argue?  Especially with turkey, beer, presents and a fortnight's vacation.  I would prefer to celebrate the publication of The Origin of Species, say.  Or Mark Twain's birthday. (But those are just singletons; a long weekend at best.)  Of course, one can change and adapt. And dare I say it? one can evolve.

So that will be my Christmas theme this year.  I'll decorate the place like The Galapagos, eat some catfish, get drunk and read passages from Huck Finn and the latest Dawkins book. Of course, the turkey stays.  And the presents.

More about this later.

I KNOW I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT

The wife turns 60 tomorrow.  She's old, I'm old.

I remember when things were different, when we possessed whatzits and thingamajigs the other was interested in exploring.

What the hell happened?

Knowledge might be power.  But ignorance (with a trunkload of curiosity and a hard-on) was bliss.

Get the hell out there and explore.

Happy Thanksgiving to the good folks of the U S of A. 



Oh.

Right....

I forgot to mention the Republicans.

Sorry.

As you were.  Say no more.  No what I mean?  Nudge, wink, gobble.

A SIMPLE 'THANK YOU'

Ahh... so quiet.  So peaceful.  No comments and no followers.  Just the way I like it.  Why, I'm virtually invisible.

That being the case -- and you being busy and all -- I intend to rob your houses.

You might as well gift-wrap the silverware and put my name on it.

Oh yeah... and thanks.