T r u i s m

Hey uncle,

To go far, start near. All right, I’ll work with that. Right now I’m running too many dishes through a dishwasher. The dishwasher is wasteful but it is helpful when I want to cook something, a process which invariably ends up making some huge mess. There are multiple food stains on the hardwood kitchen floor. I never mop, which is a pity. Then again, neither does my roommate. I’m about to take the subway to an Avis rental outlet at JFK airport, where I’m going to drive to Long Island for four days, until Tuesday night, to help stave off a Republican House candidate with a lot of money in a district that typically leans Republican. I have a small chartreuse duffel bag and a black shoulder satchel with me. I need to buy some floss, a toothbrush, mouthwash, a comb for my unruly goatée, and some fresh socks because I haven’t had time to run a load of laundry.

Recently I became convinced that I was locking horns with The Universe, which had lost faith in me and relegated me to a downward spiral. Then, more recently, I decided that I was not as important as that and what was actually happening was I was reacting to The Universe and not the other way around. Now I’m figuring there’s probably a way to split the difference that involves not being too hung up on making money. That’s a problem, because for some reason I decided to live in New York City and my apartment is not rent-controlled, and this whole metropolitan area is turning into one high-end mall.

I’ve missed some chances to jump on board a professional train recently because I’m just too burned out and resentful. Is that possible– to be this burned out and pushing 37? It’s Richard Nixon’s world, I’m just living in it.

I hear Grandma thinks I look like Fritzie from The Dan Patrick Show. What the hell does that mean? Last night I hung out with some wiccans and they were talking about the connection between witchcraft and ancestor worship and I thought, I wonder which ancestor is going to contact me next. And there you are.

Well, off to brave the grey and cold. Lancelot

D i v e r t i s s i m o . . .