The Horror

First blog back in two years and I’m terrified. What am I thinking? I’m not sure I was that good at it the first time. Restarting something you used to do is so bloody painful. It’s that weird stomach pain too, like when you’re out with a girl and you realize it’s probably time to kiss her for the first time. Either you make your move here and now, ready to live with the consequences, or consign yourself to a lifetime of watching other dudes make their move while you play the part of her tragically frustrated platonic emotional caretaker. At some point there’s nothing left to do but dive in and just hope you come out untased. What a scary time. What if your instincts are wrong? How many apologies, retractions and awkward Hey-how’ve-you-been’s does it take to wash away the stink of that flub?

“Oh, hey what’s up? Yeah, sorry about the whole… uh, thing. Yeah, I’m just gonna be standing over here admiring the guacamole spread… no, it was good seeing you too.”

Hoping this blog doesn’t come to that level of awkwardness, pretty sure I got a lifetime supply of those moments in junior high and first year of college, the only thing sweeter than guessing wrong is guessing wrong while your friends watch… puberty's awesome. Who am I kidding? So’s adulthood.

But Michael, if the thought of blogging after such a long hiatus makes you so miserable, why do it? Because you and I need some regular quality time, so that MAYBE, perhaps, by the slightest of slightly slight possibilities there’s a chance you’ll hear I’m doing a comedy show in your neighborhood and be overcome with rapturous, bowel-relaxing anticipation. The naïve, soon-to-be-jaded idealist in me is thinking maybe you’ll think to yourself

“Oh wow, that guy who writes the amusing things I read when I’m supposed to be working is going say dumb stuff in person! And it doesn’t cost much to see the show because nobody’s ever heard of him! Maybe I’ll come out and bring my ha-ha’s so whoever hired him will think he’s going places and hire him again and again and again until everyone in the area has either grown sick of him or elected him to city council.”

Ok, so maybe that’s a tad far-fetched, but real marketing costs money, and if I had money I’d be out on the town spending it on amaretto & cokes, not sitting up on a Friday night trying to “type witty”. God must be good and disappointed in me right now. Just looking down, mind blown

“Really son? I created Friday night, and this is what you’re doing with it? This offends me more than Bill Maher…”

I would do a podcast, except that would require I learn something about podcasts. Besides everybody’s doing podcasts now. Nobody blogs anymore, at least not anybody who has a car. It’s almost retro at this point. If you’re writing a blog these days, you’re probably one of those endangered “journalist” creatures, clinging desperately to that last little bit of societal relevance before John Stewart, Stephen Colbert and Bill Maher manage to render your species wholly obsolete. Sad to admit this, but I don’t think I’ve watched a “legitimate” news program since the novelty of Obama’s election wore off. Can you believe I actually have the right to vote? Somewhere, out in there the ether, the ghost of W.E.B. Du Bois is pissed the f*ck off. I’ll get it together W.E.B., anyone who can impact a nation while sporting a moustache like that deserves to his ghostly rage taken seriously.

This is my blog. Will attempt to do at least one of these a week until I get famous or find something better to do with my Friday nights.