These past several weeks have been quite the little roller coaster.
Celebrities died. Civil unrest. Kidnapped soldiers. Watching my wife’s acquisitions be nominated for major awards. Literary agents expressing interest in my novel. Heavy life conversations with Mom and Pop. Fourth of July fireworks. Coney Island trips. Had a table thrown at me. Had a 41 year old try and fight me in a bar. Met up with old friends who I haven’t seen in seven years. Lost my keys. Made amazing turkey sandwiches for lunch. Found my keys under my bookshelf. Made and drank pina coldas. Re-remembered that I hate pina coldas. Read some terrific books. Read some terrifically BAD books. Laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. Swore at the television as the Mets lost another game. Wrote some new short-shorts. Had some other short-shorts rejected. Had some book/chapbook reviews published. Have a few short stories close to their publication dates. Listened to some great new albums by the Drive-By Truckers, The Walkmen, and The Dexateens. Rediscovered PBR. Lost and caught up on sleep. Big bills. Loan consolidation. Witnessing heart-stopping accidents in Brooklyn. Met the Puerto Rican family across the street and watched as their kids set off illegal fireworks all over the place. And said an official goodbye to a dear friend who lost her battle to cancer.
Also, today is the anniversary of my wife and I moving to New York City. With my father’s help. A sweet and meaningful day for too many reasons to recount.
To a regular person this is life.
To a wordsmith, these are each a hum of a story.