See you later. This isn’t really goodbye, of course. I tried once to quit these never-to-be-sents and then came back, what, a few days later? I don’t feel like scrolling through the archives right now but the evidence of my inability to divorce myself from the Linc/never-to-be-sent subgenre of creative nonfiction is there.
It has been such a difficult week that I had to take a break from even reading The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. When I thoroughly enjoy a book as much as I am enjoying that one, even just taking a break from it to read something else strikes me as one of the worst betrayals. But there’s a Sloane Crosley I’ve had my eye on and after this week I really need something that makes me convulge me with laughter. Sloane Crosley is a humor essayist not unlike David Sedaris except maybe a little less cynical. Also, for a woman, she’s quite attractive. She isn’t that much older than we are and I haven’t read any evidence that she’s currently attached, so if you’re looking…
I know that it’s a fat chance you’ll ever get these letters (or donate to my fundraising cause). But you know what I’d really like? In the pantheon of my wildest fantasies that includes marrying you or receiving an actual handwritten letter from you, this one is the mildest: if you could let me be among the first of the general public (I am of course separating myself from your friends and family, who will naturally be the first to know) that you are engaged, married or about to have a kid, that would be crazy and wild and awesome and just all around sweet of you. Just say, “Hey Joe. Thanks for your support. I am about to announce to the world that I am marrying my lady during the off-season. Your pal, Tim.” Of course, the reality is that I expect to eventually receive a text from Ally beginning with the words, “Joe I hate to tell you this…”
Anyway, today I am saying “goodbye” because I have today and tomorrow off. I was not scheduled to have tomorrow off but my boss was nice enough to rearrange the work schedule so that they would have coverage without me. The day off did cost me, though — I had to use what little vacation balance I’ve so far accumulated. The expense is worth it. I have had what I consider to be a taxing week at work and in the next few weeks it is only going to escalate. So, better to escape and get my bearings now; essentially, my day off tomorrow is what working stiff-types call a mental day. I am not sure to where, exactly, I am escaping. But I want that escape to somehow involve two books; winding, rocky trails with moderate uphill climbs; and, possibly, the ocean.