I started exercising again after a long layoff, which made me think I should do some other things again that I haven’t being doing – like writing blog posts. As I’ve said before the reason I haven’t been blogging is because I’m trying to get my stupid book finished, and I don’t want to post what I’ve been writing in my book on the internet for free, although here are a couple lines from today’s work:
Thank God the drive home is uneventful, except that the radio station I am listening to plays “Melt With You,” by Modern English, which I have not heard in a while. Irrelevant but noteworthy. But I feel fine. No symptoms, no aftereffects, nothing. While driving I have some time to think about possible causes:
• There was something weird in my Chinese food. Most likely drugs or that poisonous blowfish they eat in Asia which kills people. Possibly what I thought was chicken was actually blowfish. For the purposes of my theory, I will ignore the fact that they only eat that stuff in Japan, not China.
• Mini-stroke. Perhaps I have a leaky brain vein. If that’s the case, I could die at any minute. And if I could die at any minute, I should probably go ahead and buy that Xbox I’ve been thinking about getting.
• A one-time synaptic misfire. I don’t know whether this sort of thing happens or not, but maybe it was just one of those inexplicable cognitive events that happens after brain trauma. Like when people wake up from a coma and they can speak Flemish. I don’t recall having any brain trauma but maybe as a result of the brain trauma, I am also suffering from amnesia.
• It was psychosomatic. Possible, but unlikely. If I am going to have some sort of psychological breakdown, I expect it to be the kind where I run around screaming because I think I am on fire. Anything less would be a letdown.
That was a freebie. You can read the rest of it in my book, which WILL NEVER BE DONE. I don’t know why writing this second book is so hard, except that I’m writing true tales from my life, which for some reason are far more difficult for me to write than made-up shit. Maybe because I have to figure out a way to make my life seem more interesting than it actually is.
Today, for example, all I’ve done is get my daughter ready for school, go to the gym, and try to think of funny to write for Twitter. And get a mani/pedi (not true). And wave to the mailman, who did not wave back (true).
I’m not sure what the mailman’s problem is but he really needs to straighten out his attitude, especially now when people are so mad at the government. I don’t think this is a situation where he’s going to shoot anybody or anything. I just think maybe he’s having a bad day. Or else he didn’t see when I waved to him. Which is more likely because I was inside at the time, and he was outside in his mail truck. Even so, would it have killed him to toss a little wave in my direction on the off-chance that I was standing naked in my bathroom looking out the window after checking to see if my single workout had made any difference in my body?
Anyway, back to work. Stupid book.