— this is really happening

overdue, and all over the place, a scavenger of daily incident

The room smells like cat litter and figuratively, I have nothing left to give to it. I’m waiting to clean the box for some reason, like a person waits to go the bathroom while on the computer. I saw Charlie Wilson’s War on my own yesterday. Heck of a movie! Slap my liberal knee, heck of a movie! I now know much more than before about places I think I should have known more about to begin with. Bonus: the military history lesson was imparted to me with a jolliness that may have been over the top at times, (was the Cold War really THAT funny??) but I like that the movie showed how uncalculated politics and clandestine operations can be. Afghan mujahedeen, Zai in Pakistan, Dan Rather in a turban, and there’s Charlie Wilson with coke in his nose in a hot tub in the Cayman Islands orchestrating deals over rotary telephones to covertly send arms to Afghanistan through Israel and then Egypt to ensure the Soviets don’t win. (Whew!) The hoot of CWW is the elegance it conveyed about a man and his make-shift team who, from the outside, were the picture of inelegance. But I think that’s true. Politicians don’t even write bills — shoot, they don’t even read bills most of the time. A movie like this unfolds how HUGE occurences in the world (oh ya know, like the Cold War ending) can sometimes be played out over scotch at a poolside in Houston, or over a strip tease in a dark room in Cairo. Like most of us, politicians have no idea what they’re doing. Good for Hanks. I enjoyed it! And now I will go do my own research.

Back to my smelly room, I have turned on the heater by my feet and I’m warming up slowly. I’m drinking black coffee and the tippy tips of my fingers are cold too. And look, the rain has returned! What luck! An occasion to celebrate that I sent my first "NRN" email today. ("Update on PFY – NRN") Here the subject line specifically relieved my recipients of the potential ponderance, "Does this necessitate a response?" Nope! The NRN means "No reply needed." Now that’s cool! Why didn’t I know about this before?! There’s NRT as well: No Thanks Needed. Yessir, tell ’em you don’t need to be thanked. Tell ’em!

Hm, I haven’t been writing on this bloggy in a few days. Did you notice? As I was just telling my wintery sweatered dinner date last night, the blunt truth of today friends, is that I’m in between things. Just closing a phase of sorts, prepping up for my 30th bday wake, wondering what’s in store for me in ’08. For those of you who have spoken to me about this, my "I’m a boy" poetry has been racing. The haircut is like magic. I am letting transformation take its natural course. Will I head away to Providence? Will I go Scandinavian? Will I someday be the husband I have always wanted to be? All I know is that it’s sure to be the year of making good use of my hands. So, I just signed up for a 4-day introductory dry stone walling class in Ontario. This should propel my New Year’s resolution: use hands in new ways and more. (Damn my hands are cold right now!)

And now I’m off to Salt Lake as should have happened last weekend. I’ll be back to toll in the New Year with my besties, who are forever changing, and forever brave.

P.S. I’ve just finished Persepolis (thoughts to come!) and I’m starting War and Peace. Wish me 1400 pages of luck.

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