Labouring Through the Day(s)

The end of another Indiana summer, the likes of which has rarely been experienced in the whole of our history, has now officially come and gone.  The only reminder of its existence is just another “X” indelibly carved on to the calendar of an undeniably dystopian year.  A solitary mark pulling us all closer to the frozen stagnations of the impending winter, lurking threateningly just on the horizon.

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Only Quitters Quit

DISCLAIMER:  I am fine.  No need to text, call, or post.  Just another dark night of the soul spent inside my head within the confines of this City of Wayne.  And I’m getting the demons out in the most transparent manner available to me.  Because fuck secrets.  But if you, or someone you know, is currently struggling, there is no shame in reaching out to the N.S.P.L: 1-800-273-8255. There are seldom healthy choices left to make when drowning unsupervised in the exhausted collapse of another bottle’s last splash. There are usually just invasive regrets that linger in the shadows, as the day inevitably surrenders itself over to the dark, an opaquely familiar and dependable foe so persistently insistent in its tick-tock regularity. The steadily irregular rhythm …

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Day 98: Lazy Recap Episode

So here it is, one post away from crossing the finish line of a project originally intended to help me keep my grip upon an already tenuous sanity while facing the implications of both a global pandemic barreling down hard on the City of Wayne and the resulting state mandated isolation madness.  And let’s be honest here, that is what it really was, and not the less scary sounding “hunker in place” order that the state government and press were so very fond of using.   That, frankly, reminded me too much of the old “duck and cover” routines which were designed more to keep the nation calm, rather than to provide actual useful sheltering advice.  There was never any chance in hell that a pressed …

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Day 96: The Grind

96 days. 42 posts. 41225 words and counting. Lots of tears and an almost embarrassing amount of whiskey went into the creation of these pages. And lots of beer.  And scotch.  And other convenient little helpers ingested just to temporarily ward off the loneliness and the echoing fears of a tomorrow unfairly promised and never quite arriving. There was also tear gas. And bullets, both peppered and rubber, fired at me in anger. And an almost insurmountable isolated isolation suffered for the sake of the common good. There was this pandemically mandated quarantine, locked down tight, here in this little flyover town. And finally, at last, the City of Wayne is opening itself back up, though in measured, impatiently hesitant steps. But, I’m not sure that …

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Day 94: Pandemic, Unplugged

Most of my friends are struggling right now. Some are struggling with their currently decaying relationships.  Some are struggling with the pandemically unique challenges of raising their kids in a world constantly threatening to burn itself down with every changing news cycle.  Some are struggling with growing older in the twilight of their stories, often filled with late night regrets as they look back upon their experiences, sleeplessly reviewing the stubborn lists in their heads, marking opportunities missed and lamenting the paths never quite traveled. They have questions and problems and worries and they have hurt.  They are all looking for something better than what they have, though they often aren’t exactly sure what might be a more fitting replacement.  They are grinding dutifully ahead, some …

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