welcome to the danger zone

Idioglossia. Idiocrassis. Idiomorphic.

There’s a Dr. Suess alphabet book that has a corresponding video. When Andy was a wee one, I’d plop him in his rocker chair and let the idiot box tend him while I snuck away for a cigarette. But I can still hear the video play in my head, big I, little I, what begins with i? as I sit down to do these entries. Clearly I am behind. I don’t even know what letter I am supposed to be on. I write them and then I save them, to post them at work before my day starts or on break or lunch or after work. Never on work time. Never. I would never misuse work resources inappropriately. Never. Anyway, this is why they appear in lots of three or more entries at one time. Sorry. But the fact that I have made it all the way to I is pretty impressive. And that I am still interested in writing more. That’s not to say that I won’t be glad to get through my alphabet, but I’m somewhat impressed with myself that I continue to indulge.

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So what begins with I?

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Introspection. Something I have been doing a lot lately. Impulsivity. Impetuousness. Like this past Sunday, I made the road trip to see my brother and his wife in Maryland, and every time I got near an interstate that I knew traveled from the east coast to the west, I just wanted to say fuck it, I’ve got my retirement money if I quit my job, I could live on that for a few months until I find a job. I can leave all this shit behind, hit the road, don’t look back and start somewhere fresh and new. Today. Well not exactly today, it would have to be Friday, when I got paid, because I would need gas money. Oh wait, not then either, because technically, the car is in Andy’s name. So that would be like theft. And that would lead to that other I word. Incarceration. I have spent enough time just visiting with clients at Schuylkill County Prison to know that I do not like that I word. Then there’s the other I word that rears its ugly head. Insurance. The health kind. Because I’m only coming up on two years cancer free, and I have three more to go, before I can comfortably say, let’s go, and get out of here, because I don’t need your stinking health insurance any more. This brings me to another I word…impatient. Because I don’t want to wait. So for now, I’m immobile. And looking inward, imagining what it will be like to return to my life on the opposite side of the country. And those are my I words.

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And since today’s letter is I, let us not neglect the other powerful word, intoxication. Which despite the pictures and multiple facebook posts that occurred on Saturday night, I truly was not. I was feeling quite pleasant, but hardly intoxicated. Not like some people who wore chicken suits or engaged in the very sad white boy dance party. A good time was had by all though. And a very necessary one.

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So enjoy this drunken chicken picture from Diane’s Adventures Below the Mason-Dixon Line:

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Image.

And some more I words: inferiae, ingluvies, innominate.

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Onto J. You’re gonna want to stick around for that…we’re talking justice.

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