lonely little love dog

Eugene Mirman came to the Book Cellar last weekend to talk about his new book, The Will to Whatevs. It includes indispensable tips on such real-world issues as how to make a baby cry more and how to talk to arrogant, radical college students. Needless to say, it was a Euge success.



Also last weekend, No Coast hosted the final events of the Unlympics, which included (among other things) an eye-opening presentation on prison torture from Tamms Year Ten (one of many Chicago social justice campaigns that needs funding and support and does not need the city to be financially and emotionally absorbed in a "sporty mega event" such as the 2016 games), a jump rope competition, and maybe the most amazing karaoke performance I've ever had the privilege of witnessing: Matt singing R&B while Heidi seamlessly interpreted the song in dance...in floral print rollerskates.





Heidi also led a game called "Telekinetic Synchonicity," in which we had to try to draw the same thing as a partner (without looking at his/her paper). We were supposed to draw *LOVE* and Anne and I ended up being pretty in sync. She drew a cat thinking of pants and I drew a cat with a heart-shaped face sitting near an ice cream sundae.



Bryce owned it.



Loverzz. (Pic stolen from AEM.)

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Also recently...High Places on WNYC's Soundcheck. M and R are currently in New Zealand, cavorting with hobbits. Poor babies!

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Some recent Time Outness.

another year of missing phil...

...and trying to integrate his memory into days that, in most ways, require forward momentum—knowing the difference between looking back and staying back.

I know now, two years later, that this is nothing like "moving on": it's just moving. Trying (despite an unbelievably cyclical interior monologue) to think new thoughts, experience new things, make each day as alive as possible. Learning how to navigate these long, elliptical paths around the sun.




But missing, still. And speaking of orbiting the sun, he would've been 30 today.

(...I dial again
the number I know by heart,
thankful in a diminished world
for the accidental mercy of machines,
then listen and hang up.)