Sooooo, it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything around here.
You know how when you haven’t called a friend in a while, and you know you really should call them, and you tell yourself you’ll wait for an important event to finally make the call, only then nothing feels important enough to call out of the blue, and before you know it you haven’t spoken to a good friend for like four years? Yeah, that’s sort of what happened here.
Well, that’s half the story. The other half is that my life got back to “normal”. And, wouldn’t you know it, “normal” has an insatiable appetite for your free time. Juxtaposed against my previous unemployed life, where I could confidently list several things to accomplish each day, with enough breathing room between them to adequately bake the gooey dough of my thoughts into something edible, the requirements of gainful employ leave one with frustratingly little time for creating. Continue reading The State of the Tanktronic Union
Below is another excerpt from the forthcoming book, due early next year…
As my mid-thirties approached and I was still unmarried – hell, I hadn’t even strung together more than six months of dating one person in years – I began to feel isolated from the friends I had cherished since our time in college. The friends with kids weren’t going to leave the house when weekend nights came to pass, and the friends married sans kids weren’t very keen on going to the kind of places single people wanted to go – namely, places with lots of other single people. Thus began the cycle of having to make a choice each weekend – you could make solitary attempts at finding love, or spend the time enjoying friends while acknowledging you implicitly signed up for one more week of being alone.
No anecdote better summarized the ridiculous hopelessness of dating than the girl who told me the tale of Remote Guy. It was our second date; the first had gone well enough, and we were exchanging stories of frustration about being thirty-something and single, the well seemingly run dry for the lot of us. She told me of a guy she dated earlier that summer who sat across the table from her in a bar overlooking Woodward Avenue during the Dream Cruise, a Detroit tradition where classic cars cruise the street one weekend each year. Looking over the sea of antique steel and car guys, he asked my date “Hey… do you have DirecTV?”
Continue reading Dick Remote Guy
In the days that followed her passing, during the grim perfunctory tasks that come with cleaning up after a life, my mother’s handwritten journals made their way into my hands. There were five books in all, each one spiral bound with a very Hallmark-esque pastel flowery cover. Newspaper clippings and hard copies of emails received rained from the books when handled.
Mom told us, my sister and I, before she passed, that she wanted us to read them; indeed, our eventual reading of them was her sole purpose for writing them. She wanted her children to know her, as an adult, in a way she never got to know her parents. My sister grazed through them immediately after her funeral; I read through a couple of the books during business trips over the Pacific in the subsequent months. I think subconsciously, neither one of us was ready to absorb any of the words – not yet.
Continue reading An Investment in Peace
The following is the first of a series of excerpts from the forthcoming untitled Tanktronic book, due out this winter. In this excerpt, I reflect on my short time living in Stadthagen, a small town in Germany.
I lived in one of the town’s two hotels, in the one room they had that loosely resembled an apartment, complete with a kitchen fully stocked with pots and pans – but no stove or oven. That pretty much summed up the spirit of Stadthagen – accommodating and quirky. I made my three minute commute to the office in my rented small Mercedes, a name brand which is more Chevrolet than Cadillac in Germany. I managed to find a couple young adults [and one child, embarrassingly] outside the office who spoke English fluently, and they gave me some sense of friendship and normalcy over the weekends.
Continue reading German Freddie Mercury Gets Down