Personal

So I just wanted to get some more thoughts down, since this period of time is both weird and unsettling, and also deeply familiar.

It's weird and unsettling because I thought by now, I'd never again have to feel so scattered and unsure. It's familiar, because once again for the millionth time in my life it feels, I am scattered and unsure.

Last night I went to a friend's seder and experienced a whole different family for a night. At this family, they sing 'subtly' altered versions of Beatles songs that are about the Jews exile in Sinai:

Moses is the Guy We'll Follow

Special words by Lia Lehrer and Julia Latash
(Sung to the tune of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds")

Picture yourself in a desert in Sinai
With sand in your shoes, and sun in your eyes
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,

So my friend Katie sent me this exceptional article about the emergence of comedy pod-casting.

And by the last sentence I was in tears.

As an outsider, it felt wrong to watch, yet compelling, in the exact way that the best podcasts can feel as they explore that wonderfully wrong airspace between the hard joke and the hard cry.

I guess, in that I keep writing a blog I am a bit retrograde, but that's okay. I prefer being able to edit.

Anyways that sentence about a person observing a memorial for Mitch Hedberg started me crying, but not about Mitch Hedberg. I was crying about the end of this latest relationship. About the fact that I have this new mental rule that states unequivocally that I can never date a comedian again, that the rule somehow refers back to the idea that all comedians are at base damaged people, who have taken their damage and turned it into material, and that if I am also a (granted very amateur) comedian I must somehow be damaged too.

That's probably okay right? Now that I have this empty time to fill.

I went to the gym again yesterday. This time it was really hard, and I ran much more slowly, and I stared at all the other people working out and I felt like a goof. A lonely goof who wanted someone to talk to.

So I talked to an older lady while we picked through a pile of drastically reduced cardigans at Zellars.

Then I went to my friends house to cook her dinner. Her mom just died suddenly in a car accident and I was invited over as an expert.

Only every person's experience is different. So I just made her soup and we talked, and I tried to make her laugh at least once every half hour.