there's a hockey puck on my desk, signed by the great one, and it's either a sign of my general ambivalence toward gretzky or my lack of appreciation for quote-unquote memorabilia that instead of putting it under plexiglass or hiding it in a box somewhere it's the thing i play with most when i'm brainstorming, or thinking, or whatever. i used to have a hockey stick but h.r. got a little nervous about that for some reason.
speaking of things boxed up, do you remember when you were a kid and you used to practice writing your signature? page after page of childish scrawl on wirebound notebooks so cheaply made they rarely made it a semester with both front and back cover intact? i found one, middle school, i think, a couple of different variations on last name that are too mortifying to include here but let's just say the least embarrassing of the group was wahlberg, and i'm one hundred percent certain i wasn't referring to mark.
i've been blocked like crazy, lately, and it's one thing when it happens recreationally but fully fifty percent of my job involves writing on a regular basis and these days i'm stuck in some sort of holding pattern. i don't know, maybe it's the weather, the snow that doesn't quit and the cold and sky that's perpetually some variation on grey. maybe i need to get the hell out of dodge for longer than twenty-four hours, on my own terms, but getting the hell out of dodge these days is logistically next to impossible.
whirlwind trip up to st. paul last week. a chance to try fried green beans and to take the bean to an underwater aquarium and i don't get the fascination but he wanted to stay, shrieked when i made to leave, some sort of kindred fascination between him and a giant sea turtle named elsa.
dc next month, the 25th through 27th, more free time than usual with these kinds of trips and i can't help but remember how bittersweet it felt last time. too much of me is too tied into geography, i think. i can't ever seem to just relocate.
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