A mishmash of catch-up items

I let an important “professional” anniversary pass without comment the week before last. June 30 marked the 28th year since I walked out on the last job I’ll likely ever have. Thus, I’ve only had three jobs since I began sprouting chest hairs — and one of them was at the Pizza Hut. I quit working for the man because I was convinced I had a bright and lucrative future as an author/freelance writer/bon vivant.

A bon vivant is someone who enjoys a sociable and luxurious life.

So I guess I’m one out of three.

• I remember coming home in those early years and Val would ask how my day went, if I’d achieved anything productive. “I won’t know for six months.” I I was lying. Twenty-eight years later and I still don’t know.

• I’ve had people ask me what’s the longest I’ve ever gone without blogging. “That’d be from 1963 through 2008.”

• I am an incorrigible smart ass

• This is my first blog post since June 15 when I wrote about being a white guy and getting out of a traffic citation. I apologize for not blogging more frequently as of late. And why I feel compelled to apologize for not doing something that pays squat is something I can’t explain.

• As of late I was busy putting together this video about how my new book got its new title. The book is a collection of essays taken mostly from this deadbeat blog. I wanted to call the book, “A New York Times Best Seller (by a small town BSer).” ’twas a tantrum of a title by yet another writer who’ll do anything for attention.

• So the new book is called, “Undaunted Optimist: Essays on Life, Laughter & Cheerful Perseverance.” How do I think it’s going to do? I’m, duh, optimistic it’ll do well, but fearful I won’t really know for 28 years. My publisher is encouraging me to stack up pre-orders, as robust interest at this stage will boost launch/marketing budgets. Interested in helping? You can pre-order right here.

• The cover is already scoring a lot of flattering attention. Taken by Brian Henry, it’s one of those pictures that looks so good I’m surprised they let me in it.

• A friend just said I’m “lookin’ fine” in the picture. In fact, that picture was taken in, gulp, 2015. She asked how I’m feeling. I feel good, but not like I felt in ’15. The difference? Today I have Parkinson’s, but in ’15 I was likely hungover so I guess you could call it what the bookies say is a push

• In hindsight, I feel like I lived four straight decades like I was a lit stick of dynamite, ever ready to detonate. Lately, I feel more like a candle, one that gives off a steadier, more illuminating burn. But a prank candle, one that keeps reigniting just when you think you have the damn thing blown out.

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• In an effort to preserve the remaining tatters of blog tastefulness I’ll resist seeking the perfect “blow me” punch line to that tempting set up.

• Another milestone surfaces on Wednesday, this one too momentous to ignore. The 15th marks the 5th year since I moved my office from The Pond — incredibly, I was evicted — and into the fabulous Tin Lizzy. I think how I got here and how being here has influenced my writing deserves a stand-along blog post on Wednesday …

Any volunteers?

• I’m not going to call it a party and I don’t want to encourage anyone to violate prudent social distancing protocols, but I’ll have a half-assed open house from 4 to 8 if anyone wants to stop by and say hello. More on Wednesday.

• Thanks for all your cheer and support!