Saturday, October 26, 2019

Dispatches from the Social Assistance Office

Senior Lady: "Are you playing with your gizmo there?"

Security Guard: "My computer? I’m working on a project."

Senior Lady: "Oh, well have a nice day. Bye!"

Customer Service Rep: "Did she just ask you if you were playing with your-?"

Security Guard: "Let’s not talk about it."

Young Lady: "Hi handsome! How are you?"

Security Guard: "Not bad thanks. Don’t forget to ask for extra money for new glasses."

Wednesday, October 23, 2019

H is for Hole.

It’s been a long long slippery slope falling this far in two years. Down here at the bottom of this barrel is a swirling swill of sleep deprivation, slothdom and immobility.

Back when I’d graduated (or thought I had) from my long stint at the banyan tree, I was so inspired; so motivated. My goals were so clear and so promising.

But the universe, as if Satan himself feared what I might accomplish, threw nothing but hurdles at me. The long gradual erosion of inspiration and motivation have surrendered me to my instinctive laziness. Several times I thought I was on the verge of climbing out, only to bang my head into more hurdles and collapse again.

And now, here at the very bottom (how I hope this is the bottom and it can’t get worse), what hurdles does the universe throw now?


Now it throws only life-lines.

Three medical professionals are giving me as much of their time as I wish. Four dear associates who appeared to drift out of my life have recently reached out to me; revealed I am not as forgotten as I assumed.

The Eloquent Potter continues to be a miraculous comfort to me. The guy is a genius; incredibly wise and truth-seeing. He always understands me at once, and does not flatter. He understands my total alienation to this place, and feels it himself, but unlike me, is empowered to leave. And soon he will go. But we have the miracle of internet and so he will never be entirely out of reach.

I have started regularly listening to music again and feeling moved again by familiar words of wisdom.

I’ve managed a couple effective steps toward better sleep potential (and there are many more outstanding).

I sometimes ponder tasks without feeling overwhelmed; without imagining that the effort will be lethally exhausting. I don’t always rise and do them. But at least they’re not so intimidating.

And here’s something: I recently pulled up my work on the novel Crazy Legs (working title); the first 14,000 words. I was a little stunned to discover that I am not alienated from it after all this time! The characters are still intimate and very real to me. Everything was perfectly familiar! This has never happened before after such a long layoff. I know I am fully capable of picking it right back up again. November first and National Novel Writing Month is coming. I have a week to properly prepare.

I am not motivated. I am not inspired. But I’m thinking that maybe this stuttering semblance of momentum might breed more of itself and carry me, if even in fits and starts, until I can carry myself again.

Monday, October 21, 2019

G is for Gutted

Last season our tall tough ace defensemen Riggsy and Grace were gradually absorbed into our Junior A affiliate team and were not around for our historic playoff push to the conference finals and not beyond. After a Scooterville Tigers executive meeting the other night I am told we will lose the following this coming year: Junior B leaders L-Robb and (goalie) Naggs; Our fan-favourite ace defenseman Downtown Brown; the occasionally-brilliant and always-entertaining Aggador-Spartacus and… the Wizard.

The Wizard. The guy who is worth the price of admission every game. The guy whose stick skills alone were enough to make me fall in love with this game again - though I do credit that to the whole team.

“How is he not in Junior A?” I once asked an assistant coach.

“I think they think he’s too small and gimmicky.”

“Great. Their loss.”

I am kind of broken-hearted. Have I been in denial that this is a development team? And as such we are always at a disadvantage against the outlying lacrosse-first communities who throw all their best players into their junior B program and maintain those kids’ loyalty through to age twenty-one.

We are a team of perennial teenagers, waiting for their shot at Junior A. How am I supposed to market this team as THE elite spectator sport product of Scooterville? (Yes, even better than the supposedly-professional basketball team and supposedly-professional football team and threesome of Junior hockey teams. None of those teams will send more of their players to actual pro leagues then we will send to actual pro lacrosse. The guys I have named will all have a shot at the NLL.) How do I adopt such an elite professional attitude and posture in terms of marketing when few of our best players can really fully commit to us? It seems incongruous to me.

“Don’t worry. We’ll have another good team,” said my old pal; our GM and head coach; our guru, “We’ll just be younger.”

I don’t care how good we’ll be. I was invested in some of these guys. I’ve been planning how to market them. I’m fond of them.

The Wizard. Well god damn it. I’m happy for him if this is what he wants. But I’m sad for me.