I am sick. Here is what it is: I have a cold in my head. My nose is running, and I have a headache, and my ears feel larger than usual (?). So why not blog, in this case?
Because it is January and because everything is pretty much nexus-ising in my life (that's a word, look it up, it means when everything coming together to be a nexus but isn't there yet it's in the process of nexusising (the hyphen is optional)), I am thinking of the future.
If you Google image search (or "gis") the word "future" you get the car that is pictured. It's odd that when people think of "future cars" what springs into mind is something ridiculous that you would never want to get into. No one wants to leave the grocery store with two bags of groceries and you don't have a car cause you only went in there for milk and cheese so you just took one of the baskets but then you thought as you were in the aisles that you want to make a good soup and the cat needs food so you came away with two bags of groceries and you walk to your parking spot which was the closest at the time but now there are like 18 spots that are open and closer but whatever you finally get there, and you have to reach down and unlock the pressurized seal of your cockpit to your car. Look at this thing. Good thing you don't have three grocery bags or you're making two trips! After/if you insert yourself into this glorified bobsled, if you are rear ended going out of the parking lot the car is totaled. I am guessing this thing weighs 65 pounds and has the structural support of a coffee cup sleeve. Why are we heading to this design?
Much has happened:
-Meredith is engaged! Read her awesome blogness about putting a wedding together.
-In the future when I'm a better person, I will donate to her wedding. And speaking of people whose lines I steal, Kelsi has a badass job now and also looking to purchase property.
-A whole bunch of people are either drifting together or drifting apart. (The gis for "drifting apart" was completely uninteresting, but "drifting together" yielded an interesting photo of, from what I can tell, a Pacific Northwest couple magically transported through space to a beach, left sitting there contemplating their overencumbered backpacks, their failing relationship and the guy's denim jeans.)
-I am running the board for this company doing Marat/Sade. It is an awesome show that everyone should come see.
-But because I am working for the theater, I have missed many happy hours, a date with Rapunzel, a sushi party, TWO rockband parties, a Steelers postseason victory, and too many other fun times to list or link to. Marat/Sade? More like Matt/Sad!
-I had a reading of the full-length play I'm working on dealing with a casino coming to Pittsburgh. Readings are hard but necessary, as is illustrated by this fun little stat:
A) Time spent alone typing thinking I was writing a work of art: The past 6 months.
B) Time spent listening to actors read the play aloud and finding out the play has deep, chasmic problems regarding character, tone, structure, dialogue and theme: 2.5 hours
-Other people moved and junk. Sorry, it's too much to realize what's happened over the past three months. Because you see that's the past. The last three months is the Toyota Camry. The future is the Toyota Bulletmobile, small enough to be in everyone's blindspot, yet quick enough to totally fly off a country road.
The future is now, but, like the elusive Blue Monkey from the Merrie Melody cartoons, the future is wily, hard to find and impossible to control. Which is why it is necessary every once in a while to take stock, to blow out the mucus of your decision-making paradigms out into the soft 2-ply Kleenex of the past, to snort hard the nasal spray of introspection, and to take the Nyquil of the Promise of Tomorrow. Which is why tomorrow I'll be taking a sick day.
What do you do when you're out of ideas? When the casino opus needs to be fixed with a chainsaw, not a scalpel? When you have no money for a wedding? When the housing market is surprisingly competitive? When a three-day weekend is nigh, and all your plans involve watching Season 6 of West Wing and running board for the theater?
Ladies and gentleman, I suggest we take this Nyquil, and in the morning, we start building a car. It can be blue. It can be shiny. But goddamn, it needs to have room for groceries.
2 comments:
That car looks kind of like mucus. Just saying.
I found your blog again. I didn't think I'd lost it, but it turns out that I actually did. And then Kelsi found me, and I found her, thereby finding your blog, and then I found that a car had melted onto your blog.
You should get that looked at.
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