I’ve lost my voice.
I know where it went. IT took it.
No, I’m not sick. Marci might be, but she’s been like this for more than three weeks. So if it’s IT, then I think we’re outta the woods.
You don’t normally see me write those words, but my family does. #ShitFuckPiss I say to them in text messages or on the phone or FaceTime. This just sucks.
I can’t get my mind around what’s happening. I can’t talk to you all as The Spiritual Wanderer. I can’t be that guy who happy-blogged during leukemia. And I don’t know why.
Oh wait, yeah I do. Because the world is under attack. IT is all so unprecedented. Wait, that’s a stupid word, unprecedented.
IT is robbing us of any security we felt. IT is doing untold damage to the world’s children. IT can kiss my ass (from a safe distance of six feet).
I’m pissed at my neighbor who starts up his motorcycle and shakes our whole house.
I’m pissed at the people out on the nature trail I travel who don’t practice social distancing.
I’m just pissed in general and it stinks. The chainsaw guys behind the house are cutting into my brain.
I’m not always pissed. But when it comes on, it feels remarkably un-Rodney. I don’t like that Rodney guy.
Usually I try and be funny.
Or caring and listening.
Usually I try and put GOOD out into the world.
Lately, I’ve been recording my fun and funny baseball novel and releasing it as a serial. I’ll share it here when the audio is complete. Here is a sneak peek at the first several chapters. The written version’s here: Hope’s Diamond.
I’ve been trying to be a better person during all of IT. I’ve been tipping outrageous sums to the curbside people I grab food from while wearing a mask, gloves and goggles.
Do you sleep a lot? Do you sometimes escape into a movie only to remember, when it ends, that we’re all under attack? Do you sometimes have a beer or a glass of wine and try to remember what it was like back in March, 2020?
Way back in March, 2020, I attended political rallies with thousands of people.
Way back in March, 2020, I had dinner IN A RESTAURANT with a friend.
Way back in March, 2020, I sipped coffee in a shop with some older citizens.
Way back in March, 2020, I made plans.
The wind shakes the house as my neighbor returns on his boom bike. He’s a decent guy and I hate that I said that about him earlier. He looks out for our other neighbors and helps me blow their snow in the winter. I hate feeling like an asshole. It’s me, not him.
And now, the beginning of a mega migraine is snaking across my visual field. I’ve had these off-and-on since college. I need to sign off and drop an arthritis pill that the doctors prescribed for this long ago.
THIS I can handle.
I wish there was a pill for IT.