Sometimes, during the deep of the night, I'll consider my life and make sad, musical harumphing sounds like a plaintive Scandinavian walrus. In the last year and a half or so, I've had some setbacks. My salary rose sharply, then dropped precipitously. I saw the end of a relationship I thought had a lot of potential, and I moved from NYC to Reston-goddamned-Virginia.
Very recently my salary rose again (from 0, but not to earlier heights I'm afraid) and now I'm getting the hell out of Reston and back into a town where there is stuff to do. I'm hoping that this marks the upswing of various trajectories of my life rather than the valley of a sine wave, but I guess we'll have to wait to see. If I can just get my business off the ground, figure out the details of my plan to save investigative journalism, and find a smart, hot, interesting woman to date, I'll be grand.
If I can't make that happen in the coming year, I'm taking my money, moving to Cuba and really leaning in to a dotage of dissolution, drink and decay. Ole.
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1 comment:
I never really considered the nice dichotomy of the little red engine and Sisyphus before, nice point there.
I wish you would've written about what I first read the title to be: "more the little red engine than syphillis, I hope"
Perhaps the same text would've been appropriate
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