The Bloggy Blogface!

   The first time I ever heard of this place, its thick paper catalog sat collecting dust on the coffee table. The front cover had a mailing address label with my parent's names on it, slowly peeling away on the bottom corner. Some days it would rest underneath the TV Guide, other days on top of it. Sometimes it would be hidden underneath a pile of that day's two local newspapers, my father having worked for one of them, bringing home the late edition. The catalog always arrived in the early fall, a few months before Christmas. I was six years old when I started flipping through those pages, the freshly-pressed ink bringing all the color photographs to life. What seemed like thousands of vibrant photos on every page came with product descriptions at the bottom. I was captivated by just how much they jam-packed into this catalog, three-hundred pages of almost every marvelous thing. Many things, of course, I did not need. But I wanted. My parents never ordered anything thro...

Netflix stand-up comedy special, or a TED talk? A theatrical introduction, your name voiced by someone else through a loudspeaker, or sung by their charming voice. Arrive onstage through billows of manufactured smoke, maybe rising to the stage deus ex machina style. Wear whatever the hell you want - like denim shorts. A Hawaiian shirt. Leather-looking workout gear. A dress shirt a little too unbuttoned for someone your age. There is wild applause from the completely sold out, cavernous arena or open-air stadium. Most stand, clapping for a solid ninety seconds as if you just saved the world. Greet the raucous crowd by identifying the city you are all in, regardless if many commuted from out of town, yourself included. While greeting the crowd, pace around the stage, maybe clap yourself a little. Look astonished, not humbled. Point into the audience pretending you recognize someone here, or over there, and definitely up there. While pandering, say "yeah" or "w...

   Some of the folks in whatever constitutes my social circle here were born when I started high school. I didn't deliberately mean for this disparity to exist, yet it does. It's really what I get for hanging out with some of the food service people around this town, as they're the clientele other bars tend to see just prior to closing time. More often than not, I'm the oldest one at the table, and maybe the oldest one in the building. For the most part, they're good company. Some have checkered pasts, or however much checkering can be done when you're just twenty-four. Others at the table have led normal, simple lives, and are just trying to find their place in the world. I can identify with that latter group, which explains our compatibility while throwing back pitchers. The good news with this crowd is that many had no idea how old I was, and were surprised when I told them. I guess I'll take that as some sort of compliment. I have always treated ag...

   One of the less depressing stories amid the election aftermath concerns itself where President Obama's family might move to after his tenure ends next month. It appears they will stay in the Washington, D.C. area so that their youngest daughter, Sasha, can finish school. I'm grateful we never had to move when I was a kid. I switched schools often, but never a mailing address. It wasn't until my naive self got to college where I learned more about such normal concepts as split families and military ones that move around often. Sure, I was familiar with those circumstances, but never experienced them firsthand. Everyone was just...married, and there, right where I knew them. Except my late aunt's family. They moved around some, but always stayed within the city limits. Their son, my cousin, never had to transfer schools. He did, however, have to walk to a public school for a few years while living directly across from a private school. At least Sasha Obama doesn...

   A few nights ago, the Chicago Cubs reached the World Series for the first time in over seventy years. I'm sure you've heard the Cubs backstory ad nauseam - all the curses, general bad luck, et cetera. I know the media made damn sure you were aware of it all and then some. It provided a great storyline, but this current Cubs crew busted through all that by winning over one hundred regular season games and eventually three straight to capture that National League pennant. As a Mets fan, I'm...kind of happy for them? I don't know. Sweeping their asses in last year's National League Championship Series was pretty fun, but that was then I guess, and this is now. I'm rooting for them in this World Series, It's been a long time coming. Or, maybe I'm rooting for the Cleveland Indians. That's not such a bad thing, is it? They're a good team. Swept the Red Sox, whooped the Blue Jays in five - I mean what's not to like? They're likely the unde...

  A friend back in New York City is enrolled in a M.F.A. program in creative writing. I haven't spoken to him much about it, but he just recently started the program. He's about my age. Good guy - poet, performer, and activist. We met attending the same college back in the day, specifically working the school's summer new student orientation program together. I don't remember if he graduated with my class back then. Maybe a few years later. At any rate, to pursue higher education after being out of the game for so long is no small feat. More power to him. His pursuit of the M.F.A. got me thinking about my past futile attempts at such. Most of my wild dreams about the degree occurred well over a decade ago. For reference about those days, I recently took a gander at some past Livejournal entires that date back to around 2004. Most of my friends on that site hailed from the school in Louisiana I worked at. Prior to leaving this position, I had created a somewhat satiri...

   A fellow barfly has been missing in action recently. He hasn't been frequenting the few places we often spot him here in town. Maybe he moved? That's somewhat doubtful, as he mentioned awhile ago that he just bought a home. Unless he made that story up, of course. One of the last times we saw him, he was accompanied by a woman he claimed was his neighbor. She was an older lady, chain smoking with leathery skin and an appetite for all the rum and cokes that night. Their body language together suggested they were, in fact, just friends. And possibly neighbors. The missing barfly - let's call him Greg - is indirectly friends with people in our social circle here. In fact, they all used to hang out back in the day before I came into the picture. I've had the endless artificial joy of hearing story after story of their early intoxicated, sometimes drug-fueled adventures - whether at bars, bonfires, music festivals and the like. Greg certainly was a party kind of guy. ...