Monday, July 2, 2012
So, a few days ago, my wife and kids took off and left me alone at the ranch.
They do this sometimes because they know it helps me get work done, and I like the quiet where I live.
So, that afternoon I went outside to feed the horses and I noticed something was missing. We have a trailer for camping trips that we keep in the side lot near the hay shed, and it was gone. I didn't think it was too weird because I knew my wife was getting some work done on it earlier that day.
The thing is, the guy who's fixing the trailer showed up and hauled it away and I had absolutely no idea it had happened.
The next day, I said this to my wife:
"I noticed the trailer was gone yesterday when I went outside to feed the horses."
My wife told me this:
"I am glad that you do other things beside write all the time. If that was all you ever did, you'd never notice anything going on around here."
She was probably right.
When I was at ALA at the end of June, I came to a realization about something. It was this: Writers who only write all the time and never get out of their writing caves have moist handshakes.
Moist handshakes creep me out.
In fact, I (Writer 1) remember having the following conversation with a colleague of mine (we will refer to as Writer 2) that went like this:
WRITER 1: Hey. I just met (insert name of famous writer guy here).
WRITER 2: Oh yeah. He's a nice guy.
WRITER 1: Yeah. He will never remember me, though. I think I must actually be some kind of Jedi or some shit like that, because whenever I meet people I think their minds go blank and they walk away from me saying shit like, Who was that guy? What just happened? Why is there a gaping hole in my memory?
WRITER 2: Ha ha. You're so funny! Remind me again, who are you?
WRITER 1: Yeah. Well, anyway, I noticed that (insert name of famous writer guy here) has a really moist handshake.
WRITER 2: You noticed that too? Definitely one of the moistest handshakes I have ever had.
WRITER 1: I think I'm heading back to my room. I need a shower after that moistness explosion.
So, today's Instagram topic was Busy.
I am busy.
Yesterday, I took my wife and kids to this old biker bar near where I live. The place is usually a graveyard, but on weekends it gets packed with portly Harley-Davidson riders who like to come up to the mountains and get shitfaced before motorcycling back to their suburban Los Angeles homes.
And one of my favorite all-time guitarists was playing there.
It was busy.
And I took this photograph: