To Live Deliberately

...is a lesson I find myself losing and regaining from time to time. I ask you to remind me in those moments I am clearly and utterly derailed. Life is very good and I need to remain slow enough to enjoy it.

Before digging into the first layer of self-indulgence, allow me to make a point: It is unfortunate for this guy, and the rest of us, that this was CNN's choice of photo for the fact that the stock markets have been on an upswing during the last week.

Moving on...

Tonight was a very good night, in the most unextraordinary ways. This post will exemplify all of the mundanity popularly mocked on blogs, but I persist because my blog is fairly closely controlled as to viewership, and I know you all well enough that I can tell you to suck it and hear a "no you suck it" in return, so whatever.

After making a 6.1 mile run, on concrete no less, along the East River from 11th street all the way to the southern tip of Manhattan and back, I went shopping at my local pasta place and bought one of those awesome pepperoni/sausages draped over the steel bar above the counter, a pound and a half of fresh gnocchi, and a large loaf of bread. I limped home, loaded myself up on gnocchi and bread (the entire loaf which I managed to finish tonight, and laid on my couch with a Sam Adams catching up on The Office and 30 Rock until I passed out from sheer exhaustion for 3 hours on my couch. Apparently Stringer Bell is now on The Office. Holy jesus.

Upon waking up, I flipped on the Duke game and ordered a burger from a local joint with fries, diet coke, and a oreo ice cream sandwich, which I wolfed down with impressive esophogeal agility and proceeded to trudge out to Blockbuster to pick up Disc 1 of Season 2 of Deadwood (quickly moving up on my list of "totally awesomes") and then decided, on a whim, to stop by the Strand Bookstore and pick up a book or two to keep me human. I wandered the store for about an hour, listening to the new Sigur Ros album (which is excellent by the way, and very very different than their earlier albums, except the talent remains) and was just like a pig in shit wandering by myself amongst books. And I definitely wasn't alone. Turns out a lot of people also like to spend their Saturday evenings wandering in a bookstore. I bought two books: Disgrace by Coetzee, which I have been avoiding for fear that it is too obscure for me to comprehend (see, e.g., Foucault's Pendulum, was I really supposed to enjoy that?)) and The Best American Essays 2008, which I am surprisingly excited about.

Then, I wandered home and decided to start reading both of the books.
Disgrace is shockingly clear, simply written, not the slightest bit obscure and extremely accessible in all respects. I have enjoyed the first 30 pages, and I expect to enjoy the rest, when the story finally picks up. As for the book of essays, I am actually very excited about that as well. Despite the apparent schlockiness of the premise of some publisher collecting the "Best Of" of each year and releasing 30 volumes of the "Best Short Stories," "Best Mystery Stories," "Best Political Writing," "Best Sports Writing" and on and on...I actually find these compilations to be fantastic filters for some truly excellent writing and forceful thinking. I would recommend them highly. (Unless, of course, you have the ability to truly dig deeply and discover all of the wonder of the writing world on your own devices, in which case I think it's ok that you don't try them out. And then recommend some good stuff to me. And then realize that I'm mocking you.)

Anyhow, after reading for about an hour and a half or so, I decided to crack yet another beer and watch the first two episodes of Deadwood, Season 2. So good. I am already missing the show despite the fact that I have at least 22 hours left to go. Feels like I'm watching The Wire again.

(P.S. Watch The Wire.)