This weekend a few of my friends attempted to coax me out of my warm cave into the wide world. I considered it. After all, the wide world is where the majority of wonders are, including girls. Surely nothing can cause a man to wonder more than they.
I sauntered down my hallway into the bathroom and took stock of my appearance.
1. Manly piercing glare: Check.
2. Overall dashing good looks: Big Check.
3. Bulging muscles: Check (where not obscured by fat).
4. Gross hermity beard getting bigger by the day: Check.
I decided that my friends were probably right. While lately I only venture outside to ride bikes, run, or procure supplies, going out would be fun. However, it was 13 degrees outside and I knew the roads to be sheets of ice because I had wrecked my bike on one that very day.
I didn’t hurt myself physically, but when you’re is as self-absorbed as I am and you wreck your bike, your pride takes a blow. I tried to leap quickly up and get back on my bike to show that I wasn’t hurt, but I forgot that I was still on the sheet of frictionless ice, so I added a Scooby Doo style scrambling-legs-but-going-nowhere maneuver to the show.
Here’s the offending patch of ice. How dare you, solid water?
Physical hazards aside, It must be said that I have spent quite a lot of time in my life dedicated to merriment. My years as a professional musician, I think it’s safe to say, were pretty much all fun, which is why I’m now 35 and living like a college student. Not that I would trade my experiences, mind you.
Then I recalled one of my heroes and his landmark appearance on the David Letterman show from many months ago. Like me, he has dashing good looks and a big hermity beard. Did either of these stop him from giving an engaging and insightful interview on national TV? Hell no!
Then I sauntered back down the hallway from the bathroom to my kitchen, stepping carefully around the disaster area, to appraise the situation there.
No, not The Situation. I mean the situation as in the things that are transpiring in my kitchen, which has been converted into a recording studio… again.
I don’t have a lot of unoccupied space in my apartment between golf clubs, four bikes, several computers, and all manner of musical equipment, so the kitchen is the best I can do. I have to wait for the heater to turn off to record any vocal tracks, though. The fan in it makes a horrible racket.
I’m also back to not drinking since the holidays are over, so there’s really no reason for me to be in a bar at all, except possibly to be that weird guy who isn’t drinking. I made my decision.
I typed a response in text form to alert my friends, and shouted it aloud from the rooftops (tweeted about it).
2010 is hereby declared the year of the hermit, I proclaimed. Ha ha! Take that, universe!
And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll scurry back into my hidey-hole and draw the blinds tighter than they already are.