Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 20, 2019
I am convinced that my greatest failure is that I have far too many interests.
Hope Idiotic | Part 16
Later that week, Lou started therapy. He’d gone to a psychologist before when he was in sixth grade. He was misbehaving in school, collecting an average of one detention a day from one teacher or another. He even managed to get a detention while in detention. His parents were convinced his behavioral problems stemmed from some sort of internal conflict. They had mistaken internal conflict as being a twelve-year-old class clown.
Hope Idiotic | Part 15
Chuck was going to write. He was going to edit the magazine. He was going to be productive. But he miscalculated the balance of booze and pills and his ability to work, so he instead ended up getting plowed, destroyed the motel room and slept on the beach with his head inside the empty beer case to protect his glasses.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 13, 2019
The Eagles are a grossly overrated band. Separate from that, Hotel California might be the most terrible song ever recorded. Worse, yes, than Rebecca Black’s Friday.
Hope Idiotic | Part 14
CHUCK CLAIMED HE WAS ATTENDING AA MEETINGS ON A REGULAR BASIS. So each morning, Melvin stuck his nose right into Chuck’s open mouth and told him to breathe. These closed-door sessions were disguised as short, daily program meetings so as not to drum up any suspicion that something covert was going on. Not that anyone could have guessed that Chuck was allowing his superior to huff his morning breath.
Losing a Best Friend 10 Years Later — Remembering Mike Zigler
On Friday, October 16, 2009, one of my best friends, Mike Zigler, died.
It was a stupid death. One that was completely avoidable if Zigler hadn’t been the man he was, and maybe, if I hadn’t left Las Vegas two years before to continue my life in Chicago. When people ask me how he died I joke and say, “With his hands at two and ten” — the textbook instruction on where a driver should place their hands on the steering wheel. Zigler died in his car, in the garage of my Las Vegas house, which he was renting from me.
Hope Idiotic | Part 13
She spent the majority of her day sitting at that wall unit writing summary judgments and answering the flurry of emails that poured in. Many of them were only one or two sentences — conversations that could have been easily had over the phone in less time and with less interruption to her train of thought. There’s nothing more distracting for a working writer than to have an email notification going off in the corner of the computer screen every other minute. When she needed a moment to think, she would lean back in her chair and look at the shelf just above her computer at the two framed photographs of her and Lou.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 7, 2019
It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it that matters. I’ve said this before, and yet, some people still don’t get it. Maybe it’s the way I’m saying it.
Hope Idiotic | Part 12
What kind of a boyfriend was he? What kind of a man lets his girlfriend of two years — a close friend for eight years before that — foot the bill for her big thirtieth birthday trip?
Hope Idiotic | Part 11
In the dining room, the party was getting more and more raucous. Music was blaring as it competed for dominance over the laughter. One sixty-year-old woman referred to one of the women in her quilting group as “a total cunt.” Gifts set aside, Lou, Michelle, Chuck and Lexi joined in.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 9 — The Unfinished Line
By the time this is published, the Chicago Endurance Sports (CES) training group I’d been running with this summer will be gathering at the Ben Franklin statue in Lincoln Park getting ready to have their last long-ish training run before Race Day. I will be asleep. Or maybe I’ll have dragged my fickle body out of bed to bang out some work before the kid wakes up and the dog needs to be taken out and the wife needs her coffee. The point is that I won’t be at the Ben Franklin statue in Lincoln Park getting ready to have a run. Because I’m not running the Chicago Marathon.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 29, 2019
I am limping proof that hopes, prayers, and positive thinking are no match for reality and action.
Hope Idiotic | Part X
Two days later, Lehman Brothers Holdings collapsed, causing a massive wave of panic throughout the financial world. The Great Recession had begun. That day, with no companies to call on, Lou’s entire team was glued to streaming videos and news stories about the collapse. Lou played online Tetris.
Hope Idiotic | Part IX
Chuck regularly passed out wearing his glasses and just as regularly would lose them in the middle of the night. He’d either pull them off his face and throw them across the room or lose them in the pillows and sheets of his bed or cushions of a couch. But they weren’t in the cushions.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 8 — Broken Down?
At the end was when something hurt. This was new. This wasn’t sore. This was different. Yet, I chocked it up to, well, just having run twenty glorious, goddamn miles. I guzzled water, I stretched, I ate a banana, I rode my bike home. At home, I stretched, I took an ice bath for ten minutes, took a nap. Katie and I hung out at the 312 Block Party at Goose Island for a bit before calling it a night at nine. All day, my right leg would blast with pain at every step.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 22, 2019
I respect the guy, but Malcolm Gladwell is not a genius. He’s not even that interesting. He’s perceived that way because he’s a well-spoken black guy. Yeah, I said it. And you’re all racists.
Hope Idiotic | Part VIII
Lou finally began making a little bit of money when he broke through to the Chi Star, a free daily paper owned by the Franklin News. It was designed to be a newspaper with training wheels in hopes that as the young readers aged, they would make the switch from the free commuter rag to a more mature newspaper subscription. It was the struggling newspaper business’ effort to survive by adapting the drug trade’s tactics; get ’em hooked for free when they’re young.
Hope Idiotic | Part VII
By mid-November, Lou had been living with Michelle for two months. She provided half of the dresser for him and cleared out space in the bathroom cabinets and her closets for him in an effort to make her place his place, too. But she refused to let him hang any photos of his friends or family. And there was no way he was putting his film trophy on display anywhere.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 7 — Easy Does It
Marathon training puts time and distance into relative perspective. Once you prove you can run seventeen miles on a Saturday morning, jogging a quick five constitutes an easy run. Six miles is nothing. It’s a breeze. It feels like less work than walking across the street to pick up my dry cleaning. Christ, I hate running errands.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 15, 2019
It’s okay to admit that you don’t know or understand something. In fact, it can be beneficial. It gives you the opportunity to listen better, differently, to learn something new and one day be the know-it-all you always knew you were.
...that, as we age, good footwear is more important than a girlfriend.