I'm not down

The pain of bone against concrete. The sting of a barely scratched skin. The moment of wondering whether your skateboard is going to roll into the street and cause an accident. The embarrassment of rounding up the lid from your Tupperware and apples rolling down the sidewalk before hustling to the bus stop.


The flat spot left from skidding on tree debris is still evident.

I'm not becoming some weirdo goth who's going to start embracing suffering, but all of that felt good this morning--a release from stress over the pending magazine deadline, a mountain of housework, worrying about disappointing the people who matter most.


Funny how surface wounds can sting like hell. These pants weren't my favorite anyway.

Sitting on the bus gave me a lot of time to think, and weigh the various shitty parts of the morning. In the end, it wasn't so bad. True, I was on the bus with bloody knees, sitting next to crackheads taking hits in the back seat, but I was between my awesome wife and my perfect job.


My knuckles are okay and ready to type.