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Hoodie talk

Tuesday 3/1/22

I have some kind of wound on my back that is sort of festering. Has been there for a while. About the size of a quarter. Hopefully it will just go away. Maybe I'll try some cream.

Ran 3000 stairs this morning. I feel like noting as much doesn't make for the most thrilling reading in and of itself, but perhaps in the aggregate. To go from entry to entry and page to page, and see what someone did over time to achieve what they ultimately did. How the effort was total. How they had to do everything, including keeping their body a certain way. The across the board commitment. While in hell.

Somehow I missed that Chris Webber made the Hall of Fame. That's well-deserving. There was a brief period when he might have been the best player in the world. Tiny window, but a window all the same. I also think Doug Gilmour had a tiny window like that in hockey. Webber was one of the most egregious Hall of Fame omissions in all the sports. I'd say the biggest right now is Fred McGriff. He did enough to be a first ballot Hall of Famer.

I do not like the term "nerd." I mention it because I see it on the Bumble. It's a prompt. "What are you a nerd about?" or some such. (NB: Change your answer from "That the sodomy be piping hot!" as that is more what we are fastidious about than what one would be a nerd about, as it is meant here. No! Relax. I am joking. I did not put that.) So just now I saw where a woman admitted to being a nerd about poetry. People are already these sterile metal rods of nothingness, and then we have these kinds of disclaimers about caring and the things one might care about. You're a nerd to care about something worth caring about? You're not doing anything save what you should be doing, what ever human should be doing. And what does that mean? You're a nerd because you didn't just put that you like to watch Netflix? Netflix sucks, first of all. There's little on Netflix worth watching. And if you watch it all the time, you've really not noticed how Netflix-y it is? The Netflix vibe? You don't notice that the shows and movies have similar tones, arcs, shapes? They're Netflix-y. How can that sustain and stimulate you for more than a week? Anyway. The word "nerd" always feels like an apology to me. Like, my bad, sorry I like this thing for non-idiots. You're going to apologize for that? That's just so weak. Be passionate. Live deep, live wide. Be passionate about Keats, be passionate about the workout, be passionate about drinking that water, be passionate about Sam Cooke, be passionate about getting better at your job, be passionate about the trip to the museum, be passionate about growing and living fully. Pull the entire amalgam of the richly lived life so close to your body that it comes through your skin and gets into your heart and your soul. And fuck anyone who tells you or suggests that's not the way to go. Because it's the most human way to go. And that, my friend, is what matters.

As we are coming up on ten years of the whole Molly thing, Facebook is sending me photos from a decade ago of my house, with my film and concert posters on the wall. To say that this is upsetting would be like saying jamming a dagger into my gut and twisting it all day would be displeasing for me. I try and re-channel that pain into keeping going, so I can get my house back.

The hot water is going to stop working again soon. It's barely lukewarm in the shower. The unit will have to be replaced, and as they don't make this kind of unit anymore, that will mean a new type of system, and first a visit from the electrician followed by one from the plumber. I don't even have lights in here. The light fixtures are all broken. The way I live is tragic. I don't know how else to put it. Everything is predicated on getting the hell out of here, getting my house for starters, then gutting and fixing this apartment and using it as an office in the city.

I threw away the sweatpants that had produced my flashing issue, and was in new ones today.

I think a mask thing has happened? I am hoping you no longer have to wear one inside of places, but everyone I saw today had one on, which doesn't necessarily mean anything. I have a friend who has COVID right now. I have certainly never been more productive or active than I have during these last two years. This is the opposite of everything I've heard from everyone else. There is little that people love more than a good excuse. I was giving an interview a while back and the person made some remark about how we've all had more free time than ever. If you know me, you'd know that I was then embroiled in the process of biting through my tongue so as not to say anything. We do, huh? I believe in COVID as this thing that exists. But I believe in it like I also believe in donuts, and not exercising, and drinking too much (which I was guilty of for a long time). For myself, I've never believed in it as a threat, or anything to think twice about. A vaccine? Sure, I'll get a vaccine for just about anything. Didn't race to do it, but did it when it was convenient. I am not a mask person save to go along and do what I need to do. I believe that masks are unhealthy, or they are for me. I would feel unwell after wearing one. I want actual air. And to fill my lungs with it. I am also a big believer in mental strength and mind over matter. I do think that plays a big role in health. I'm mostly speaking for me, but it is part of the Zulu code.

As I was writing this, I heard from the poetry "nerd." Depressing. These people are so bloody depressing.

You can only write so much on Bumble for starters, and it's not much; but if you say anything intelligent, you get stuff like this. Then you think, "What on earth can you understand? Can you comprehend anything?" I read back what I wrote. It's so straightforward. It's just not stupid. Again, consider the quote from Thoreau and what is the biggest piece of my personal pie. And you see why people communicate in the same cliches and the same nine words. It's because they understand nothing else, or, I should say, are used to nothing else, and are too scared and weak to venture beyond the cliches and the same nine words. Then again, you also have people trying to get in good with me, which they never do honestly, which is the only way one could get in good with me. Tricks and techniques are not going to work. Only realness, substance, intelligence. I will see through every last machination and form of artifice. They try to impress me, and this is a tactic they sometimes use. I've received hundreds of notes from women saying words to the effect of, "What you wrote is so brilliant and it will go way over anyone else's head, but I got it." Quite insulting, really--I write to reach. There is nothing more fundamental or essential to who I am, what I do, what I am here for. Why I keep going. They're trying to prove to me that they're smart--and failing at it--while establishing this bond between us that is not there and will not be there. As ten others, ironically, say the same thing that same day. Not going to work. I rarely bother going into any of this with them at this juncture. I simply give them a "Great, good luck," and I move on. The Easter bunny does not give out chocolates like I give out those "Great, good luck"s. I recall once Belichick was giving an interview and he said something about the hoodie is a fantastic piece of clothing, you can do a lot with it. I feel that way about a "Great, good luck." It's like the words version of a hoodie. Sometimes, the ones from Yale (it's funny how often it really is Yale), who are all embittered, broken, and looking to fight, will say, "With what?" I think, "The fucking off," though I don't formally add this. A great thing about a "Great, good luck" is it speaks for itself.

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