I love that this happens right in front of the opposing team’s bench and that what Bird has done is so amazing even one of the guys on the other team can’t help but react.
Parades were obviously invented before there was TV. Back then, parades made sense. If you had a new king or whatever and you wanted everyone to get a look at him, he went on a little trip through the Main Streets of all the villages. Boom, that’s a parade. Makes sense to me. But these modern day parades with lip synching country stars n shit? What the fuck is point? It’s all just advertisements. It’s like this next float is the Trojan Man brought to you by the good people at Trojan Condoms. It’s all so stupid. There’s no new king and even if there was, we wouldn’t need to have a fucking parade about it, the new king could just go on The Ellen Show. That’s how we’d see him. And besides, Ellen is delightful.
This is me and my cousin Scott. We are wandering around Cape Cod in cold miserable rain. It’s kind of delightful.
I’m staying in my new place for the first time tonight. It’s small and warm and we adore it. I don’t know what it will be like to live here, but I’m not too scared. I was pretty scared before but now I feel better about it. I think this has every chance of being lovely. That’s the thing about moving, it really is a time to re-focus and re-commit to what you want your life to feel like. And tonight, I’m really happy.
Moving out of a house where you’ve lived with your friends—people you really love and have had so much fun with—doesn’t feel like moving in the usual sense. It marks the end of a time in your life. It’s like graduating from some extremely small, lovely college. Sure, there are reasons you couldn’t stay forever. But inevitability has never made endings any easier.
So tonight I’m packing all my books into boxes.
This is what happens.
These books you love, you put them tightly and carefully into boxes and you tape the boxes shut.
Soon you unpack them in the new place.
When I get scared, I think about who I could call and cry, begging for a hug.
I figure if there are still three people who respond hug-ready and who just need to know your location, you’re okay.
We’re animals and a fire makes us feel safe, but sometimes we have to be the fire for one another. With hugs.
If the day comes when you can’t find the hugs, you gotta get out your apologies and start figuring out how you did the tribe wrong.
What crying, cold person did you warm with a hug?
If you don’t have an an answer to that, you better just pray for warm nights.
Because you ain’t shit.
Sometimes big changes start happening in your life and they seem to be happening so suddenly, and then you realize that it’s not that sudden, you’re getting old! And then you get this sense of yourself, like, really getting older—and fucking fast. And it’s scary and it makes you think about death, because where is the time going? And you really, like, suddenly feel that just like getting older isn’t some abstract thing that you’ll never have to really go through, dying, fucking dying is no abstract thing either. It’s on its way too. And everything changes so fast and you haven’t done enough. You’re not doing enough. You’re missing it. You’ve missed it already!
But then, there’s this odd comfort that shows up just after you have this hysterical fear about how you’re so old and you’re dying and you never did anything and you missed everything—there’s this calmness that shows up.
Okay, you’re getting old. You are probably not going to be President or whatever. So what do you want to do? What is there time for? You want to handle the changes well. You want to call old friends. Get back in touch. Really back in touch. You want to hold on to what you love. Learn a few new things. Stop worrying so much. Cross some of the long standing bullshit off the old master to-do list you’ve been lugging around for years. You want to get comfortable and just embrace what a goofy, fat, shrill fuckhead you’re being.
It’s okay. You are getting older and you will die.
But panic is the wrong note. It’s more like you need to remember to enjoy the dinner you’re having—rather than screaming about how there’s less and less food with every bite.
Last night I had a dream that I was masturbating. Then I woke up. And, rest assured, I wasn’t, like, masturbating in my sleep or anything. I had just been sleeping.
But when I woke up and realized that that was the fucking dream I’d had, I felt so annoyed at my brain. My brain could have invented any scenario in the world! It was a dream, for goodness sake*! It could have made me be a pirate in the dream! It could have made me live in a castle made of pizza! Nope, my brain went with the most mundane and embarrassing of scenarios. I’m unimpressed.
*This is the only time I have ever used the expression “for goodness sake”
I think I’m conducting a kind of experiment.
If I stop putting energy into tumblr, what happens? Does that tumblr energy maybe redirect itself to some other part of my life? What if I don’t give that tell-people-my-shit energy any outlet at all? If I turn off the twitter faucet and the tumblr faucet, where does all that desperately rising water start to show up?
What gets wet?
Man, I’ve loved this place.
Probably, if you’re not one of, like, the two (or three?) totally beloved and respected people on here that I think are so obviously just uncomplicated, worthless assholes—well, probably I think of you as kind of a friend of mine.
A real friend.
All the obligations…
We listen to each other’s stories and we tell one another our own stories.
We really try to do that.
And that’s no small thing, what we strangers are trying to do here, using this computer wizardry to defeat unfamiliarity and awkwardness and distance and all the terrifying shit that comes along with bothering to try to know people you can’t actually hang out with in this big old Catfish-tastic world.
This is a great place for confessions, friendships, fandoms, reblogs, rants, secrets, sexts, and happy birthdays,
But I’ve just lost the part where I understood your story and knew you’d understand mine.
There’s a routine at play for me now. There’s this sense of—I don’t know—like, oh right, I know what we’re doing now, oh, okay, this is how we react to this kind of thing. I’ve done this before…
I’m really grateful for what I’ve found here. all the support, encouragement, and love I’ve received here. I’m actually way too grateful for it all to just let myself hang around here and imitate myself so that I can be lucky enough to keep receiving more of the same.
I’m going to stop worrying about posting anything. I’m going to try new things. Like what? I have no idea. I’m sure I’ll post here now and again.
But—and I say this with so much love—I think it may all just be epilogue for me after this.
My next thing isn’t going to be on a social network. It’s got to be on me to be my own feedback.
Anyway, thank you guys for everything.
I love you.
As an old friend said, I wish you way more than luck.