As I go through my the mailings from the last three years, the first thing that I am realizing is that the long free-form writing didn’t come until later. Instead, I’ve got a lot of short one liners, so I’m just going to give you some Pre-Ramble highlights. It is also fun to read my enthusiasm for shows that I wouldn’t really want to do anymore (notably, bringer shows on weeknights).
To the highlights:
I have just been doing the same old things: performing at open mics, lazing around my apartment and trying to prove to myself that the fact that I have a a girlfriend isn’t a delusion or an elaborate prank. I’ve almost convinced myself, but I have to say that Occam’s razor - combined with 33 years of contrary evidence - points to the “delusion” or “prank” theory. Needless to say I don’t expect that posing the question here will bring me any closer to an answer.
First, the real news: Carrie and I are engaged.
Many of you know this. Others of you do not. To the latter group I say “Man we really should talk more often! It really has been a while.” And then awkward silence may follow as we realize that we no longer have very much in common but remain friends because of shared history or inertia or something. But hopefully we will instead realize that not talking is the result of our busy lives, not emotional distance, and we will make a concerted effort to reconnect and all will be well.
Bush’s new Medicare prescription plan may bring promised savings, though. Since a lot of old folks are being refused their meds, this could considerably cut down on the cost of long term care.
Carrie and I moved in together on February 21 and so far, so good. If you picked two weeks in the “How long before she realizes what she’s done Pool,” you lost. However, if you picked two weeks in the “How long before they realize that the renovations are way more expensive than they realized Pool,” congratulations. Unfortunately I can no longer afford a prize for you.
It is freezing again! Hooray! At least it isn’t snowing today; yesterday felt a little apocalyptic around lunchtime. I hadn’t found time to repent or find Jesus in my heart, so when the wind starting blowing and the skies opened up I was worried that a reckoning was coming. It wasn’t. And with that knowledge any temporary worries about repentance went away. Good thing; Mom would have been furious if I backed out of our seder plans.
In other news, my house is more expensive than an addiction to snorting cocaine through straws made from original Picasso sketches. We have now replaced the bathroom fixtures, floor, paint and some plumbing in the tenants apartment; de-cancered the basement (adios, asbestos); lined the boiler chimney; removed a fence that was destroyed by three years of ivy growth and decades of rot; replaced a refrigerator apperently housing the dessicated - but still stinky - remains of Jimmy Hoffa or D.B. Cooper (time has made it tough to tell); and just found out that the shower tile in the master bath is porous and the drywall behind it is probably shot.
Did I mention that I love this house? I say that because my mortgage actually requires that I make clear that I love the house. It does this with 402 pages of legalese that makes clear that (a) it is mine, no-backsies and (b) the no-backsies rule is unilateral; they can take it if they feel like it. Also, there is the matter of Carrie who loves the house unconditionally and can do far more damage to me than the bank could ever aspire to. So, I repeat “I
love this house.”Please, come to a show. I’ll let you buy me a drink so I can save money for when the blood starts seeping from the walls. Exorcisms are more expensive than you think.
OK, that’s enough for now. More tomorrow. If you like this sort of thing and would like to get on the mailing list, go HERE.