Journal of the Plague Year, Day Three Hundred Sixty One: Can we try with real bullets now?

I have, at the very best, a sordid history with housekeeping chores. Now, in fairness, I have lots of sordid histories, most of them emotionally-unavailable brunettes. In this case, though, I feel like the word “sordid,” with its connotations of dirt and squalor, is much more fitting than in most of those cases. Toxic codependency […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day Two Hundred Seventy Six: I remember way back then, when everything was true.

A word, here, about valuable discoveries. I had what I am going to politely term an “interesting experience” today. Yesterday I took my car to my mechanic to get it checked on before I drove to Florida. I didn’t want to find out in South Carolina somewhere that my battery was dead, or my brakes […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day Two Hundred Seventy One: I dunno what the hell’s in there, but it’s weird and pissed off.

A word, here, about fighting the tides. And with much less fanfare than I normally prefer for things, we are now well and truly into my final winter in this house. This place is actually pretty great in the intermediary seasons. Fall and spring in this house are very nice. Summer and winter are awful, […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day Two Hundred Fifty Five: There’s nothing the matter with me! Imagine I said that without shouting.

I am so, so close. My list of everything that needed doing before I woke up tomorrow to ensure my Five Days of No Work is almost finished. All that’s left is to dry and fold the last of my laundry, fix up the mess I made last week of my piano-desk (there were issues […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day Two Hundred Two: Deliver me from L.L. Bean.

A word, here, about flashes of brilliance. As the moving prep continues and things leave this house at a prodigious rate, I am somehow still running into space issues. I suppose it is theoretically possible that this is happening because as I get rid of various boxes and storage areas and whatnots full of stuff, […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day One Hundred Seventy Three: Winter is coming.

A word, here, about turning points. The papers are signed, the searches are turned on, and checklists are being made: I am officially vacating Philadelphia. I am weirdly excited about this because even just a few hours of dealing with this today has shown that the next however many months are going to be an […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day One Hundred Sixty Six: Half of everything is luck, James.

A word, here, about newfound strengths. I got up this morning! The whole sheer bloody-mindedness plan actually worked! I set my alarm last night for 6:45, and when it went off this morning I rolled over, turned it off, got out of bed, and said, “alright.” And once I got back from the bathroom instead […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day One Hundred Sixty Four: The elevator’s not worthy.

A word, here, about thinking things through. When I got home from Costco earlier this evening, as I opened my freezer to put the food away, I heard a sort of sickening crunching noise from down around my feet. I looked down to see that the bottom of the gasket on the freezer was hanging […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day One Hundred Thirty Five: They’re not funny. They’re art.

A word, here, about overcomplicating things. I have spoken in the past – perhaps not here – about my curious relationship with art. Mostly over the years I have maintained that I am not an “art” guy, but that mostly pertains to quote-unquote fine art. Paintings and shit whatnot. When it comes to that, as […]

Journal of the Plague Year, Day One Hundred Twenty Three: It’s so stupid it’s positively brilliant!

A word, here, about constant reinvention. I should really start tracking my moods. I mean seriously tracking, with a spreadsheet and everything. Or just put it in my notebook, even, because I am pretty sure that they are progressing in a cycle that is getting easier and easier to predict. Obviously I don’t have scientific […]