Sleep

I recall a time when I could sleep in, sleep late, stay up late and sleep till noon. Nap whenever. Workout, eat a snack, and take a nap. Bored? Take a nap. Too cold and rainy, let’s snuggle and take a nap. I’m hung over, I need a nap. I’m hungry but I don’t want to cook. Nap. Naps were a portal to travel through time to a more interesting place.

I have a two year old.

RIP Naps.

Turned 35 again

I turned 35 again - not going to let COVID-19 take my time away. This year has been both bombastically crazy and eye-gougingly boring in fits and starts. I’m up later than I usually am just decompressing/listening to the city at night.
Been potty training my kid, too. Zero fun. I’ve been in stressful situations before - even held at knifepoint and shot at- and smoothly talked my way out or at least just handled my shit. Negotiating with a toddler, on the hand, to just wash her tiny grimy marker-stained hands after using a small plastic bowl to “go potty” leaves me shakey, red-eyed and nerve shot after the literal 20th time.

If there wasn’t a lung damaging airborne pandemic going in, I’d be back to the occasional smoke.

I’ve got some great guests coming up in the weeks ahead, really excited.

Later.

A 2020 Haiku

10/10 Experience on Haiku Generator

Inevitable 2020
A sad, toddler boomer tweets
because of dead dad.

Living In Paradise

Set two recurring timers. One timer is set at random intervals of 1 to 15 minutes to slap yourself. The other timer is every two seconds to slap yourself.

That’s being a parent to a toddler in quarantine.

“Too Much Future”

Great chat this week with Radha Mistry, foresight leader, brilliant mind. The real deal.

Me - I’m constantly worried about the future, truthfully, although not in a “what does it all mean”-type ennui and more of a “can we all please keep hands inside the ride”-type worry.

My short term concern is around this vague group-think entitlement with COVID-19. Suddenly, everyone seems ok with just willing away a virus with and, I don’t know, incorporate some internal logic that a book like “The Secret” wants to sell you. Magical Think Self-Help Juice. Good stuff. This virus doesn’t observe holidays, state lines. I get it. We Americans have always been a conspiratorial people. And now we’ve got: Masks, 5G network, secret voter fraud cabals, vaccines, and flat earth. One can imagine a modern version of Sam Adams: “Britain’s taking our taxes man, spiking this tea with special spices that get you to want to pay taxes. That’s how they get you, maaaaan.”

No concrete solutions or even frank talk from the majority of our leaders. Leaving that space of unknown uncertainty is how people start injecting their own fantasies.

Here’s some facts:

• 130K dead in four months. Many more hospitalized and now hit with bill$.

• July 31st is when benefits run out for many.

• The average American barely has any savings to cover a short term emergency.

• Zero additional relief for any affected industry long-term.

• The stock market has completely divorced itself from “Main Street”, whatever the hell that is too.

Stay safe, be smart, and hold onto your butts.

Sweet smell of your own breath.

There’s a lot of BIG important things going on. No doubt. But NYC in the summer is fucking hooooooot. Steamy. Run down the back rivulets of sweat hot. Yet here I am, pushing my kid’s stroller, happily wearing a mask. Well, accepting of wearing a mask.
A wise man once said, “He hast thou smelled it, has thou thus dealt it.” And we’ve been dealt it.
And now, we must smell.

Smell the coffee tinged scent of our own musty breath, bouncing against our own mask. Our collective facial hair matted with sweat. It’s a small price to pay.

Folks is it that hard? Put the mask on, we’re not storming Normandy. We’re not even storming. This Rorschach test of how big an impolite goof one can be is a good barometer for End Times, I suppose.

Fool Hardy must be written somewhere in the collective DNA of this country. Unbelievably selfish.

But, then again, I bought a lot toilet paper.

Ok. Here we go.

The pressure got to me. I caved, doing the podcast thing. First one was with Lauren Ledoux, great person, very warm and interesting - still getting hang of 1. Remote interviews 2. Doing it in the middle of the night 3. Just constant anxiety/fear/reckoning.

I’m bouncing between perplexed at people’s surprise that, yes, there’s structural and systemic issues in this country stemming from 400 years of collective denial…and worried that despite the protestations and valid criticisms, the representational response will still somehow be anemic at best. Which, if we’re honest, even that probably wouldn’t get signed.

Super hot in my apartment while I edit the first episode, too.

New York are we gonna make it through this summer?

Hope so.

Hope there’s ice cream anyway.