Touch You Last

Teddy, I’m addressing this one directly to you. Your mom often asks questions about what I was like as a kid. I’m no good for answers because I can barely remember the start of this day, and my parents only offer up generalities: Dave was quiet, stayed in his room a lot, was on the computer all the time, was very pale. Frankly, we were afraid he might kill us in our sleep. So, I don’t know that much about what I was like as I kid, and what I want to tell you here is exactly what you were like when you just turned one. Your favourite pastime right now is bouncing heavy toys off the hardwood floor. Actually, what you like even better is when you throw something against the hardwood and then it bounces under the c ouch. Then you try to retrieve it… and you can’t… and you get angry and shouty… and then we dig it out for you… and then you throw it back under. At present, that’s your idea of a good time. You also like to slap the cats. Gunther especially, but that’s only because he’ll endur

Oh, right – momentum. Yeah, I blew that resolution as fast as damn possible, but if it’s any consolation I blew all my resolutions. Huge. But my plan is to reboot as of today. There are two big mistakes I always make when I commit to something. First, if I fail for even a day, I immediately throw up my hands, say fuck it , and forget about even trying again. Second, if I pick a start date that’s some time in the future, I’ll squeeze in as much as that behavior I’m trying to avoid as humanly possible between now and then. (The ‘behaviours to avoid’ almost always involve sloth and gluttony, FYI). So anyway: here we are again, trying to get a routine going. What’s really great, and what this post is really about, is that 2010 seems to be the year the bloggers came back. They all didn’t go away, obviously. Some continue to be pro-stars; some haven’t stopped blogging since the day they started. (A wise eye will see that those first two links go to the same great site.) But the

Starting is hard, at least for me. Once I establish a routine and find the rhythm of something, I have no trouble keeping it up. Actually, once I've got a patern down it becomes harder for me to stop. But starting off: I'll do almost anything to get out of those first two or three attempts. Anyhow, I'll stop beating around the bush and tell you what I'm trying to tell you. I want to become a serial killer. No, wait. That's not right. Sorry, I'm writing this and watching Dexter as I write this. I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing. It's one of those resolution things. I'm not too particular about what I write, just that I do it. (That might change once I get my momentum on. Given enough time, I might get around to that erotic zombie novel I've been thinking about all these years.) Three hours a week of writing; that's the plan. It seemed like a pretty small commitment when I made it, but it gets larger and larger the