A sort of life

A French connection

RICHMOND, Va. — The head is in the gutter. Not sad or upset, or, where I’d find myself this time of year given normal circumstances. Nothing like that. I’m fine. I’ve just got a headache going and a bit of the dizzy. Like I’ve been staring too closely at a something under the magnifying glass. The strained eye headache. Partly due to the monitor of this very PC. But also because my diet is not desirable.

I’d like to say it’s because I’ve been working hard. But really it’s an impediment to working hard. Today is my Sunday, and just like real world Sundays, I get that defeated feeling around this time of the day. Looking at the nine-to-five encroaching on my sense of obligation. Peering back at the time spent and the left undone. Sundays are almost worse than Mondays. Like a lover released from prison only to find that his heart has been replaced by another man. That’s my Sunday. Monday is just getting on with things. Propping oneself up with the coffee caffeine like a coke addict . Mondays I can handle. It’s the Sundays that get me down.

I remember waking up sweating last night thinking: ?Damn! That’s what I’m going to write about tomorrow.? Trouble is I can’t remember what it was I was working on at the time. I suppose slumber got the best of me and my ideas.

I’ve been working on a few projects in a parallel manner. I’m developing this Web site that’s about to go live. I’ve been painting, sure, spending most of my time painting thinking about painting rather than doing it. I’ve been doing these things.

The trouble is, the Web site is meaningless to those without particular interest in how DNS works. And my cameras were stolen a couple months back and so I can’t show you all what I’ve been working on painting wise. It’s a real troubling feeling. I’ve never wanted a camera more than now. I never used a camera less than before. But here’s where I’m at.

Beginning to write again. Beginning to paint. Things are always beginning. It’d be nice to show you folks something ending for once. One day I suppose.

That’s a start, anyway, isn’t it?

“A French connection” is from Volume One: Frank’s Wild Years (1983–2009). Written between 2003 and 2009, Volume One was this author’s attempt to find meaning from life as a young twenty-something. While this endeavor would ultimately fail, what remains is a comical tale of loneliness and debauchery.

Teaching me to lick a little bit kinder

Teaching me to lick a little bit kinder

A pillar candle illuminates a darkened room during a home brew beer tasting session at the home of Lindsay Naylor-Jasper in McLean, Va. on June 6, 2005.