Category: Musings

possible memoir titles

I don’t think it’s ever too early to begin brainstorming possible memoir titles.  Here are twelve.

12. How to Eat a Banana and Not Look Gay:  Growing Up Straight But Sensitive

11. Mother, This Oatmeal Tastes Like a Whore’s Vomit: Rantings of an Ungrateful Boy 

10. I Told You I Was Sick: Diagnosed When It’s Already Too Late

9. I Can’t Remember Not Having Diarrhea: A Small Town Boy Moves to the Big City

8. The Great Cat Massacre and Other Childhood Drawings

7. Why Men Pull Away: My Journey To the World Tug-of-War Championship

6. I’m Sorry For Being Sorry:  Not Sorry Anymore

5. Red Rover Red Rover Send Someone to Chase Butterflies With Me Over: A Diary of Schoolyard Solitude

4. Take Off Those High Heels, Mommy Needs to Go to Work:  Born a Thespian

3. Take Off Those High Heels Because Daddy Says So: Becoming a Thespian Against All Odds

2. Daddy’s Going to the Store For Cigarettes: My Father’s Abandonment of My Family, My Hopes, and My Dreams

1. Get the Nurse: An Exegesis of My Father’s Last Words

hope tax

It eventually occurred to me that the government does, in fact, have a means of taxing the poor. It’s called the lottery. It’s a sort of tax on hope, a tax on the delusion that the rags to riches American dream is a real thing.

I’m not sure why so many of my posts have “hope” in the title…


Trough Lady

knowing and believing

What is the difference between knowing something and believing something?

You can believe something without knowing it, but you can’t know something without believing it.

Truth without belief is a cold teat.



I wish someone had pounded this into my brain ten years ago

If I accumulated all of the fiery, obsessive energy I’ve wasted comparing and contrasting myself with my peers over the past decade (which is about when this toxic habit took root), I could probably power a small rustbelt city for a few days.  Trust me, I used a graphing calculator.

We squander so much time festering with envy and resentment over the accomplishments of our peers. (just me?) Has there ever once been a benefit to this petty habit?  No.  No, there hasn’t.

The thing we have to realize (and internalize) is that, ultimately, we are competing with no one.  And even when it really seems like we are, we aren’t.  How could we be?  How could we all be running the same race when each of us has a different start and finish?

Yes, our tracks criss-cross from time to time.  We tend to clump with others whose goals we perceive to be similar.  These criss-crossings make you feel like a God or like shit, but, if your not an idiot, they usually make you feel like both.  There will always be someone better and someone worse than you at any one thing.  Always.

The point is this.  Even if someone pwns you on their battlefield, you could surely pwn them elsewhere.  The notion that some battlefields are more or less venerated by the public eye shouldn’t matter.  No one ever died fulfilled and content by doing what everyone else thought was important.  And if you ever stacked up your entire life against someone else’s, you would learn exactly nothing (also it’s impossible).  Our stories with all of their triumphs, stalemates, vicissitudes, and premature ejaculations are far too singular for comparison.

The only lesson to draw from peer success is that you must work hard.  You must work even harder than before.

For every one of your peers’ successes, you have an achievement and an aspiration that they do not.  No one has what you have.  You don’t have so many things others do.  So why squander time suffering?

Do your work.

I wish someone had pounded this into my brain ten years ago.

Ah well.