I have spent the last 20 minutes trying to come up with a goddamned way to start a post without beginning with the first person singular or being blasphemous. I tried, oh god, how I tried. Ten years after dipping my toes into the cold, online diary-ic waters, what has changed. I am still a bastard, but at least self-aware. I am contrite, but not self-serving in the confession. I still waver between career-mindedness and Live, Damn It! Live!, but now lean heavily towards the former. Ten years ago, I was already 30, but still poor, and now, jesus, I might just make it.
Thirteen years ago, I bought my first house. I built a fence around the yard. God, I miss that house. I walked to the nearby store and got a puppy from a guy in the parking lot, brought it home. God, I miss that home. Lately I've had to read about philosophers. Am I an idealist? Was it Leibniz who wrote about monads? Does consciousness define being? Is that which can be proven true perfect? That which can be observed may be true, but that which is proven wrong even once is false forever.
We still say that the sun rises. We still refer to the sunset. But isn't that a vestige of unenlightened times? The sun does not rise. The sun stays true. It is the earth that spins. A sunrise is truly an earth moving event. At dusk, the world simply turns its back.
Our dog came into our life, and left. Our poor, sweet sun Spot. Did we revolve around her? This will sound strange, but when we thought it was happening, we drove to our kid's school and pulled her out. Illness? Emergency? NO. Sick puppy. Our sun set.
My daughter had just had her birthday a few weeks before. A decade! Ten steps forward, none back. We abandoned both children a week after to celebrate 18 years married. It is hard to believe that anyone would willingly spend that much time with me. My dad's record was 4 years. He was a lousy piece of shit, though, so maybe that should be accounted for in the calculation. I wonder if I'm happy, sometimes, that he died so miserably. No, not really. I don't believe in any sort of afterlife, but if he found some peace, I won't begrudge it. Is that what they call growth? Cancer is a kind of growth, too.
Thank god no one reads this anymore. This is the mark of a new decade, and I'm happy I'll have some place to revisit ten years down the road, to take measure of what I was. I have two new dogs who like as not, will not be around. I have two kids who may have kids of their own. I have a wife who if she hasn't left me now is just maybe crazy enough to stay with me til then.
We will still refer to the earth's intemperance in terms of the sun's comings and goings. We will still define truth by awareness. I will still wonder at it all in as self-centered a manner as I am capable of.
I still read. I've just been horrible at saying so.
Here's to the next decade, B.
I totally don't read any more.
You're too smart. When you and Vahid get together and you're doing the banter back and forth I only come up with witty things to say two days later. This comment has nothing to do with anything but we were talking about you today (I can't remember why) and this popped into my head.
So there you go.
I'm still reading, periodically.
I haven't read your blog in years, and if you think I'm going to start now because of this post, you, sir, are sadly mistaken.
(P.S. Happy belated to Naya.)
I'm sorry that none of you are reading this. You're really missing out on a terrific cry for attention. AGH!
I see your cry for attention and raise you a narcisism: How dare you make ME feel old?! You really are only just 40 this year? Gah, you're such a baby! Stop that.
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