Hooooly fuck I haven't written in something like five months. Oops. In my defense, it's been a long summer - Kentucky Derby, Indy 500, New York for a week, Boston (twice), California for two and half weeks, Maine, Las Vegas, and probably another place or two I'm forgetting. Not that I'm complaining, mind you; it's a pretty douchey first-world gripe to say, "oh, man, traveling all over the country while I'm on break from grad school is so rough, you know?" That being said, traveling all over the country while I'm on break from grad school is so rough, you know?
What's not exhausting is getting on a plane almost weekly and going somewhere. It's that when I get where I'm going, I'm either going for a) some sort of big event like a wedding or sporting event or what-have-you, or b) seeing people I haven't seen for a while for a very short period of time. That means that either a) the event is alcohol-centric, or b) my friends see me for only two days, and really want to make it count. Which, of course, means going out drinking and carousing. This has led my body to, basically, hate me. I'd be surprised if my liver didn't sneak out in the middle of the night back in July sometime, leaving a note that says, simply, "You're on your own, asshole." And I couldn't really blame it.
All this leads me to actually be excited for school to start up again. One of the other reasons I haven't written anything for so many months is that, when I do have free time, it's usually spent staring off into the middle distance while I play last night's Conan on Hulu. Unless I'm busy, I'm not doing shit. That is to say, when I have a lot to do, I find I get a lot more of the ancillary stuff done. My get-up-and-go gets up and goes when I lack a structure. In fact, aside from a two-week class in June, I'm not entirely sure I've used by brain since the end of April. Here's where you put your own joke in about me not using my brain since much longer than that. Har har.
So in just about a week, school starts again. Counter-intuitively, this means that I'll also be blogging more, reading books more, playing more music, and generally being better at life. Until then, though, you're still more likely to find me at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey than making progress on David Copperfield. Fucker's 900 pages, did you know that? Christ.
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