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Double-Down On Some Coffee

July 26, 2010

So I have hit a mid-season, peak season low for the market project. I want to blame my laziness on the busyness that was Washington D.C., but that is just not fair. Instead, I have come up with short guide for powering through those mid-summer burnouts.

When you get bored or just lose focus on what it is you know you want to do, that which your body just isn’t trying to have anything to do with at the moment, or at least your mind, then you pick up a new hobby that involves writing really long sentences spliced together with commas and conjunctions and clauses, sentences that climb both up hill and downhill at the same time, sentences that crunch across the white space like a bicycle tire on a pea-gravel trail littered with small sticks and leaves and other miscellaneous debris, litter that produces a sound you can recall after pouring more coffee and sitting on your porch waiting to see if you can nail that moment when the dew point reaches 75 (again) and the temperature lurches up to 90 like the ticking of that wheel and those light bulb looking things on Wheel of Fortune, because you know that if you can nail that precise moment you will find yourself in an oasis between two bankrupt slivers, carefully shielded from both the beginning and the end (that is yet to come) of this project, goal, focus of the summer.

Training your dogs can be another excuse to forget about your daily blog regimen, the increasing stack of books sitting on the pool table as if it needed to be held down, or you could possibly involve yourself in the roller-coaster that is your family, or you could find yourself in your car driving back toward one of your prior stops over the summer because you just saw on television how that region is one of the poorest and most unemployed in the country and you now want to go back and cook food at a food pantry (unlike the Real Housewives of Who Gives a Fuck) because you feel like you have constantly been one step behind anything of any importance most of your life, especially this summer and on this project, so you feel like doing something tangible, going where others tend not to go would be a better plan of attack, but, god damnit, NBC’s Ann “I emphasize my phrasing way too much” Curry has already beaten you to this place, and you think, so what, everything has already been written about and it is your job to write about it better, bringing to light something new or interesting or ambiguous or telling about the situation, but you just can’t bring yourself to set out on the lam again, because deep down you know that when you finish this post – instead of the post about the Chattanooga Farmers’ Market, which you attended around the beginning of June – you will leash one of your two dogs, stuff your pockets full of treats that have been broken into nibblets, and start calling out commands which you would rather perform than the dog: sit, Adam; target, Adam; watch me, Adam; come, Adam; leave it, Adam; aH aH, Adam; oopsy!; and of course, good boy, Adam.

And later you will lose yourself in what ifs and possiblys and become stuck somewhere between the army men villages you would build in your side yard as a child and the plants you planted at your last place of residence and will begin considering conducting more research on a subject other than that which you were first interested, locking yourself in the microfiche room at the University of Missouri library (again) to sift through random, old – I mean really fucking old – newspapers for information on Indian raids and early settlements, because you have this undying fascination with the way people used to live and how they live adjacent to time in the tedious sunrise of our memories, a fascination that has caused you to lose many productive hours of your day dreaming and conjecturing about ancient places: the Harley Park Indian Mound, which apparently dates back to 4 b.c.; the land which is now occupied by the Columbia Mall and how it used to look before there was a Barnes and Noble and JCPenny; and the new Oregon Trails subdivision just up the road from your father’s house, tucked away from the main road where there are at least two houses that sit right on the bluff and have a view of the entire bottom land where there more than likely had been (even more) water and all types of native inhabitants and French and Spanish explorers and probably Lewis and Clark; and then the people not-so-long-ago who would drive big cars over the MO river bridge in Boonville and stay at the hotel my grandfather and great-grandfather used to manage, and specifically a person who killed his mother while leaving the motel or staying at the motel or who once worked at the motel; or maybe the two people in a car with CO license plates who pulled into the hotel a couple days ago as you were heading across the river to buy tires and wondering how far their tires had traveled, and whether or not they traveled all over the country to ride on bike trails – because they had two bicycles strapped to the top of their Subaru – and if so, then what other bike trails had they conquered and had any of them been old Railroad tracks like the Katy Trail, which I pressumed they would be biking, or had already biked, and whether their goals and plans for the summer had materialized, and what surprises they had encountered and if their days found (would find) them resting off the side of the bike trail beneath the shade of a large sugar-maple, wondered who in history had seen that tree and if they had sat there as they did at that very moment slapping the mosquitoes on their legs and gnats from their face.

Maybe this is just procrastination enacted, maybe it is fodder for some dark and stormy piece of (weak) philosophical fiction that will someday be written, but for now, it is me getting back into the swing of this blog gig, which I now know why I had quit sitting down to do this: I can’t complete a post in less than two “more-like-three” hours. Brevity will be the theme for Chattanooga, I assure you.

One Comment leave one →
  1. Emily permalink
    August 4, 2010 12:44 pm

    epic use of punctuation. proud of you!

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