I mentioned recently that I injured myself. It’s pretty bad. I tore some ligaments in my left foot and broke a few bones to boot. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But, despite my initial whining, I am not a whiner. The timing is terrible because my family and I are preparing for our late summer vacation, just prior to the resumption of school. (My wife is a teacher, I am a former high school teacher, and our children are right in the center of middle school). We are going to Canada–to Niagra Falls and the Toronto and Ottawa and Montreal prior to returning to New York, upstate, for a white water rafting adventure. We have been looking forward to this for half a year and my stupid injury interferes with everything. But fuck me, let me suffer, plenty of things are more important than temporary pain.
That’s the real point, isn’t it? My own example of stupidity is frankly a representation of our own selfish meaning over the terciary pain we overwhelm the world with as an example of selfish suffering.
I am a political writer, essentially, the sort of person who tries to relate every single incident in the world, both large and small, into the vicious nook of drawn sides and angry oppositional hatred. This is what I do here, there, elsewhere, everywhere in every aspect of my life. My professional predicament paints me as a novelist, general fiction writer, poet (to my boyhood chagrin, regardless of the fact that critics tell me I’m good at this; I write screenplays and teleplays and reviews and essays, and my current major projects are both the authorized biography of a celebrity and a complicated history book on a subject I have never seen undertaken before. This is my life, my work, and I sit here currently in the very early morning while prime time news programs blare in the background being rebroadcast, and I float here in painkilling jail, not trusting myself for professional work and yet insisting I write this ranting, ongoing blather because so many people, thankfully, over this past week, have somehow decided to see what I’ve had to say, agreeing with or despising my point-of-view. Soon there will be some newly valid material (I am hoping in the later morning, too much happening in the world to avoid having a study to speak for me). Thank you so much for your recent sinking into the darkness over this past more than a year. I suggest the few historical pieces on US presidents (notably on Grover Cleveland and FDR, early drafts from a forthcoming book), and I hope I can maintain your interest as I resume shortly. There is a great deal more to say beyond my silly, pain-killer based nothingness. No more about me. Let us return to a larger world that actually matters . . .