“It’s about solidarity,” we agreed , while waiting the requisite fifteen minutes after my second shot, last week. The Latino man in the next chair (probably a boomer, like us, though hard to tell for sure with a mask) gave us a thumbs up and we responded in kind. In…
The other night, we were clicking through Netflix movie offerings, trying to figure out which one we were in the mood for. We checked a couple out. “Too stupid,” we thought, or “not in the mood for that,” continuing to scroll until we came to this quirky little title called…
Today I’m sick of this journal, of publishing the blog, of being The GratiDUDE, of looking for beauty in the muddy March earth and dried up dog turds, of this fucking pandemic, of wearing masks, of going to work, of making coffee, of all this morning crap, of all the…
Sitting here, I can feel the bass beat of my heart, the constant percussion, solid and strong. It’s reassuring, for sure, and somehow also fragile. I can’t see it or directly take care of it or take it in my hands and comfort it or put a Band-Aid on it…
Writing in Medium, where Susan Orlean also publishes regular pieces, is a bit like milling around before a marathon, cheek by jowl with elite runners. You get to be in the same race, even though when the gun goes off, you see nothing but tail lights and figuratively eat their…
Nineteen frosty outside, according to my mobile device, and not likely to go much higher than that.
It’s now lighter at the end of the day, and darker to begin it, but the dark edges are being ineluctably pushed back by unstoppable forces. There’s no pulling it back and the…
One year ago yesterday the governor declared a state of emergency here in the Commonwealth and one year ago today the WHO first cried “pandemic” from the rooftop. It is anniversary season now, the first birthday of this worldwide mess. …
I must have watched it a dozen times the last two days. Maybe fifteen. Maybe more, because that’s the way we roll in this house. “If some is good, more is better” is one of the sacred tenets of our marriage.
I’m talking about the recording on YouTube of the…
There’s not usually much alignment or coherence between what I write in my daily journal and these bi-weekly blog posts. The latter I polish up, making sure they’re sanded and the corners are all level. I’m getting used to just pressing send twice a week whether it’s “perfect” or not…
A baby was found alive in a trashcan in Dorchester, the largest neighborhood in Boston, the other day. I had just punched in at work, 6AM, barely had my two masks in place and my grocery apron tied, when I noticed the news item on the break room TV. …
