Sometimes I wake up with love oozing out of my fingertips. I know it sounds kind of wonky, but it drips from my fingernails to the page. A spigot of heat, if you will. Love is a big topic, one I’ve written about before. How can I not? It’s so primal. So visceral. It lives inside us. Shit, I even wrote a letter to love. I loved that piece. Still do.

Today isn’t about love, though. It’s about a lack of it. Maybe that’s why it’s creeping out of my pores. The worst grievance the coronavirus has caused me, which is pretty fortunate, is that I haven’t had sex all year. What? I know, I know. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone. If sex makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this…

Sometimes you’re on a collision course with heartbreak. Sadness. Love. Excitement. I don’t know. Whatever it is, you hit it directly. In baseball, they call it a no doubter. The bat meets the ball head on. Boom. It’s a home run, and you know it with every ounce of your being.

Music has a funny way of getting you there. But it’s more than music—there’s something bigger happening…

In fourth grade, I put a tack on a teacher’s chair because a girl told me to. Actually, a boy dared me, but the girl was sitting next to me. She laughed when he said it, so I did it. I got sent home from school, and my mom wanted to kill me. But the teacher deserved it and that girl was my first kiss. So was it worth it? Well, it took me twenty years just to remember the specifics. How can I regret it? Seemed like good trade at the time, and still does. That teacher was the worst. Plus, I liked the girl. So yeah, it was worth it.

I’ve been out and about, thought I was attracted to someone…

As you get older, you get more lonely.

There’s no way around it. Maybe this is sad, but it’s just the truth. Going to bed without a warm body next to you is a haunting experience for a soft heart. The only thing worse is a dead body, which can happen in one of two ways—literally or figuratively. I’m still trying to figure out which is worse.

When I look at people younger than me, I see myself, but a version that existed two mind states ago. I can’t pinpoint when the shift occurred, exactly, but…

Today I woke up to an ache in my right shoulder. Time for another cortisone shot? Maybe, but I got too distracted by the ache in my hip. Right one, too. All those years of skating? Possibly. No more ache in my right knee, though. I stopped running to stymie that. What’s up with my right side?

Sometimes when I chew, I hear my jaw click. Never heard that before, and it’s happening more and more. Google assured me nothing is wrong. At least my breath is good (I think). But my eyesight is getting a little worse each year, -4.00 now. Maybe it’s all the squinting that’s creating these wrinkles. Damn mirror…

Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life squeezes lemon juice in your eye. Blind to what’s ahead, you stumble and fall, hit your knee on the edge of a coffee table, and bump right into life’s next challenge. What the heck just happened? It’s an instant reminder that you maybe didn’t have your suitcase packed and you probably weren’t ready for the trip after all. Don’t worry about it, though. You’re better off walking blindly, stumbling, bumping, and falling. Perfection is for phonies.

Sometimes, people suggest I’m too cryptic. I tell them there’s an easy solution for that…

Everyone is looking for an excuse to not bleed. Not do it, not say it, not write it. It’s easier that way, they think. But is it? Is it really?

People don’t like being vulnerable, but who likes to expose a wound? Worse, having life pour alcohol all over it? Nobody. Find me the person who says, “I do,” and I’ll show you a liar. It’s just not logical. Yet without the alcohol, without the burn, you risk infection. Is that what you want?

Something that courses through your blood, turning everything from red to black…