The patient is a 36-year-old male who lives alone since his wife and children left him two months ago. He says there’s a darkness that separates him from other people, a heavy darkness, like looking at a person from the bottom of a well. He believes if he could say the right words, then the darkness would go away. He says he sometimes knows the right words, but cannot say them. Other times, he can’t even think of the words to say.
The patient is 36 years old, and lives alone since his wife and children left him three months ago. Last week he went fishing in the San Juanes, and now believes that there is no better fisherman than himself. He says, “I can’t tell you about it, because talking about fishing is silly, like farting and tap dancing at the same time. All I can say is: I walk around in the water, and I know the instant the fish will jump for the fly. I cut open their stomachs and squeeze out the bugs in my hand, study what they eat, how it all gets digested, even the exoskeleton and wings.”
- Scott Carrier, This American Life #181
Last night I dreamed…
…that I got into a fistfight. At least I’m pretty sure I did; the only part I remember is walking towards somebody, angry, while removing my earrings.
I’ve never been in a real fight, so it’s reassuring to know that at least my dream-self knows how to react.
Everybody!
Is getting married! Or reproducing! That is weird and awesome, and I am much more enthusiastic about it now that my friends who are doing the marrying/reproducing are in their 20s…not their teens.
Last night I dreamed that I had a stroke when I found out you got married.
It would have been an appropriate response.
So I’m doing pretty well…
…and by “pretty well,” I mean “not majorly fucking up any/multiple significant areas of my life right now.” Which is new, and interesting.
Usually when I start getting my shit together, I get all excited, think I have discovered all the secrets to adulthood, and decide that I therefore never have to worry (or do anything) ever again. And then I fuck up some more.
So I’m not gonna make a big deal out of it this time, but…I feel pretty good.
Every time
I try to plan a trip to Chicago, I accidentally end up going to Los Angeles instead.

