Not my fault

I blame Louis C.K. I watched one episode of his show, (Season 4. Episode 2- Model) and it rattled me. As Louie, playing himself stood on the shore and watched a shimmering vision dance naked into the surf, I was struck with a thunderclap of existential self-awareness- a true peer over the edge and into the void where your horrors are realized. The bony hands of time clawing their way up to you. Such writing. Such art. It knocked the pen out of my hand and under the family credenza, where I have only now managed to retrieve it, what with this sciatica.

It is time to end the stalemate. I resign this match to Mr. C.K. and have no choice but to saw away at my own tinny reel and keep the dwindling crowd on the dance floor.

So my wife, my main squeeze, “Baby Girl” herself is on a mountain bike, and attacking the problem with her standard forthright earnestness and relentless pursuit of the facts. For a man who attributes all biking success to the magic of turpentine and the tensile strength of barbed wire, I am afraid actual science may have her dropping me in short order. Like all others though, she will have to come through me to do it.

What else? Finding a sweet friend who moved away in a crowded theater- that quick and unexpected hug an elation.

The heat? There is always the heat.

But we don’t come here to talk about the weather now do we?


6 Responses to Not my fault

  1. I once gave a hobo hitchhiker a short lift along his path. He left me with two pieces of *his* wisdom: If you turn right at any corner you will always be facing north and that rust is the strongest thing on earth. Every once in a while I find myself turning right at a corner and just for grins I’ll check if I’m facing north, once in a while it turns to be true. The rust thing? He was dead right on that one. Oxidation is going to get us all…. separating us to the tiniest constituent of our parts. Turpentine is magic and barbed wire is damn strong and handy! if you have the patience to unravel it that is. Being dropped by a girl on a bike can be an empowering experience…for the love of ‘her’ for sure! You keep writing and I’ll keep coming me friend.

  2. And this is the fifth time in as many days that someone I love has talked about death — or the process we call living that brings us to that place. You still have a lot of miles left on you, kid, but some of us are much, much closer to the finish line where we all end up, tortoise and hare. There’s a message here for all of us, as usual. Sometimes I wish your writing would occasionally miss the mark, but no. Bull’s -eye!

  3. How did the myth start that girls were slower and weaker, anyway? The only real competition is, for sure, that rust. And it is relentless and doesn’t give a shit about you.

    And very cool about running into the old friend. 🙂

  4. I’m easily passed, and often dropped. I’ve viewed many a sweaty, worn out chamois as my rabbit to chase, focusing keenly on the back wheel trying to un-see the undulating crack of my foe.
    our general complaints indicate proper aging, although I’d never complain about being dropped by a girl.

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