2777. Reflections on a Saturday Night

Another night, another Bourbon. I went out and bought glasses this time. Considered it an earlier Father’s Day gift. Tomorrow I’ll take a pull from the MacCellan, 12 year and that will be another gift. Yes, I know that is Scotch. No, I don’t know the fineries between Scotch, Whiskey, and Bourbon. My brain, being what it is, will encourage me to learn. It encouraged me to write, and to write well enough to be considered for an Origin Award. I lost, but the nomination was nice. I am not, however, on the lengthy list of nominees for Ennies. My old partners over at Posthuman studios are up for 4. This is the pre-cut list, of course, but still a rather powerful disappointment. It feels like going out for FroYo and all the machines are busted.

What does feel good is the more-on-than-off as of late ability and desire to turn a phrase. I wonder if my writing engine and my physical exercise engine have been locked in tune. As I start to slowly warm to being a steady writer I am slowly warming to the possibility of not being fat. More importantly, I am warming to the work said shed will require.

I sip between this paragraphs, clearing my palette and my mind. The latter has been able to fully immerse in vacation and as quickly as I did so, it feels entirely over. I start teaching again on the 3rd of July, which by the way is silly. Why hold class the day before the July 4th break? Why make that your first day of classes? Not smart. I expect attendance to be limited.

That is all I got for tonight.