Part of the joy of psychological injury is it poisons your dreams. Not only do you dream about that but all the shitty crap that afflicted you in life.But occasionally in a bad dream your avatar can take control.So that's how it came to be that I finally told my mother off; that she—in the dream—was a nasty old bully. I awoke angry but also with a tinge of pride.
Articles from Harrangue Man
Obama hasn't left office but I already keenly feel his absence—because Trump is already shouting his opinion on anything that is in his face like a laser spot before a cat and as the heir taking over in three weeks his opinion matters more.I saw a journo on a talk show dot point the excellence of Barack Obama and how while we're missing him now even before he's left wait until six months into a DT presidency—then we'll be missing him.And we are missing him.
That's nerdy—even for me.
One of the immense joys of parenting is imparting the knowledge of kewl movies, books and music. And TV shows ... and movies inspired by TV shows.And that's how it came to be theboy finally saw Wayne's World. He loved it; he's seen WW on SNL before but never the whole movie.
On my last day I sent out another ping; a broadcast one to the senior peeps I'd worked for along with my CV, for if any work comes that they can see me doing.It felt good to do it—except I got a date wrong and had to recall it then resend with a correction.On that same last day I got a beautiful farewell from someone leaving his role but staying with the org.
The other day I was atop the exercise bike in an ensemble of ladies PJ pants and no top but also no underpants.I'm in my mid-forties and it had been about a year since I'd attempted a no undies ride.I should have done what I did then and got off and got a pair but I elected to push on without them. The result? As Dr Seuss may have put it:Old balls ... saggy balls ...
I was heading up the stairs to a public toilet when a teenage boy skidded his bike to a halt behind me.
With thanks to Abe Simpson.It was the last working day of the year and after a cheery "Merry Xmas" to the nice bus lady in her striped Xmas hat that I walked off the bus at the station where I make my connection straight into the sound wave of a fuckwit with a petrol-powered leaf blower.
I had a mini-break for lunch, fast scarping sushi, before dashing back. Now I've gone to market I'm not beholden to artifice like a mandated break of X minutes at Y hours—I can just fly instead.So I flew, flew right through what I needed to do and came up at the end of the day smiling.This little piggy loves being at market.WFTW.
I failed at the ninth ping and the shovel ready plan got blocked; though with excellent reasons. Hence the semi-fail; the plan has value but it's the implementation that is the tricky part.That's okay. I look back at my life and I see a crazy mix of failure and success but with those failures assisting later successes.