Focus

According to Joyce Carol Oates, the award-winning and prolific writer of fiction, distraction is the biggest enemy of creativity. David McCullough, the award-winning and prolific writer of history, in 2012 did a 60 Minutes interview in which he explains how he writes. He takes the viewer into his "world headquarters," an 8' x 12' cabin on Martha's Vineyard containing his manual typewriter. Thomas Edison, the award-winning and prolific inventor, was so maniacally focused that his wife, having not seen him in four or five days, would pay a visit to his shop to coerce him into a bath, a shave, and a change of clothes. He considered eating and sleeping a distraction and spent a minimum of time on either. 

All of this to say that we live in a world of distraction. You might find, as I have, that in peaceful moments your mind is able to go places it otherwise wouldn't. You may find that instead of being entertained from the outside, you are engrossed in thought from the inside. 

I thought of this as I was reading on the back porch this morning, listening to the birds, the breeze, and the distant ever-present lawn mower.

That Feeling

It's funny how things pop into your mind. I recently remembered the day I got my license. The drive home. By myself. Cruising down the beltline with the windows down, I could've been screaming the whole way. 

For those of you born yesterday, the DMV used to be out on North Ave. I had driven with my mom, but my mémère (that’s Quebecois for grandmother) met us there, freeing me from the learner's permit shackles. Thank you mémère. I hardly knew the way home. Besides, I could go anywhere. 

Where I did go I don't remember. It didn't matter. That feeling. It's almost hard to believe, but I think that feeling is even stronger in my memory than it was in the moment. If I could get that feeling again, well, just thinking about it almost brings me to tears.

If I could give you some advice on basketball

Really. 

I, along with the rest of the world, have been watching The Last Dance, the ESPN doc on the '90s Chicago Bulls. As you already know, everyone is, was, and always will be obsessed with Michael Jordan. Everyone wants to be like Mike. Let me give you some advice to pass along. Be like Dennis. Rodman. Really. 

No, not off the court, but on it. If you want to make the team, have teammates and coaches that love you, and contribute to winning, be like Dennis. Forget about scoring, leave that to the other guys; nobody likes a chucker. Tell the coach you want to guard their best player. When the shot goes up, go get it. When there's a loose ball or errant pass, go get it. Get in great shape. Be a ball of energy. Work your ass off. Go get it.

I missed Nick's birthday, that is, I didn't post. April 24th. 38 years old. I have no idea what he'd be doing. Would he be married, have a house, have kids? Where would he live, what sort of work would he be doing? I have no idea what he would be like. I guess I have some idea, it's just been so long.

I didn't want to write about Covid, but I couldn't think of anything else. When I did, it seemed trivial. It didn't seem like the right time to complain, and really that's all I can do. 

I imagine someone will write a book entitled "Stranded in a house with my parents" and that person will detail all of the ways that life was so different. I haven't covered the topic because my life hasn't been that different. And because as I have said, I don't intend to write paragraph after paragraph of parental mudslinging. That's at my parents if it isn't clear. Suffice it to say, your kids are my parents.  

If I ever become a comedian, and I tear down the walls, well, come to my show; I have a lot of material.