Monthly Archives: July 2014

Kandinsky and More Kandinsky

Tweet The Thing I’m Doing This Year #26 Over eight days in late July I took in two beach events in Long Beach and Milwaukee. Nice and warm in California, an event featuring all the superstars of beach volleyball. I … Continue reading

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Niles Crane

Right from the get-go his right leg is violating my internationally-recognized leg space. Heat is building between us and the closer-than-close proximity. Do I tell him to move his fucking leg? No. I do one better. I shoot him several perturbed glances both at him and his offending leg. Continue reading

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I Got Nowhere Else to Go

The next Monday it was a different story. No thunderstorm warnings, but rain was a distinct possibility. I threw caution to the wind, winds?, and took off for home. No weather is going to slow me down. About halfway home I get caught with my pants down … I mean, not literally … I wasn’t even wearing pants so to speak … I was wearing shorts. I proceeded to get pounded by a torrential downpour, because that’s the only kind of downpour there is … torrential. Just completely hammered and not in a good way. Continue reading

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Invisible Man

Then I went into the bookstore and find a book off my nerdy books-to-buy-next list, “Invisible Cities” by Italo Calvino. People who are in the know consider this book a post-modern masterpiece. In a conversation with Kublai Khan, Marco Polo describes cities from Khan’s empire and/or cities Polo visited on his worldwide travels. A couple of things got me off track, first the “Khan” described here is not the same Khan I found wildly entertaining in a couple Star Trek feature films. No, totally different guy. Continue reading

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Good Job, Old Man

But then I lost it. No mojo. No energy. Did I give too much too early? I don’t know, but in no time flat, I’m trudging up the trail like an extra on the Walking Dead. I’m beat. Feel like dogshit. When I stopped to catch my breath, I put my hands on my knees and suck air. On one of these proud rest breaks, I see these two little feet approach me. It’s a nice, little old lady, about 89, with a big smile, a giant backpack, and two of those fucking walking sticks. Continue reading

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