Flotsam

A little compassion, please. This NaBloPoMo business is hard work, and haven’t you ever done something you regretted? Haven’t you ever remembered, after two delicious gin-based beverages, in the middle of a two-hour block of Law & Order, that you must post to your godforsaken website?

In college my friends and I briefly had a radio show–it was called “Get Down On It,” and we played all funk, all the time. We didn’t know anything about “broadcasting” or “technology,” and mostly our timeslot devolved into a sort of drunken dance party, all of us shimmying in the booth while a station technician frantically attempted to help us change tracks, by which I mean keep us from spilling wine on the controls. The morning after one such night I walked back to my dorm. Something was wrong with my foot, and I clumped helplessly along, watching the sun rise and feeling ill. Eventually I looked down and realized that my right foot had slid out of the shoe-portion of my knee-high boot. I was walking in the leather sleeve, the heel and toe flopping uselessly to the side. Unfortunately, I was too tired to do anything about it, so I shuffled all the way across campus and up three flights of stairs making a pathetic “step-CLOP, step-CLOP” sound the whole way. I might as well have had a cowbell around my neck, the way the sound echoed through the early morning stillness.

At least this time I was able to humiliate myself from the comfort of my own home. Progress!