So you know those new State Farm commercials? The ones where someone says something clever to describe where her/his life is headed, like...
... and from that we're supposed to deduce that we should buy car insurance?
Well, you know that place where failure pile meets sadness bowl? Yeah, I'm there. And State Farm insurance commercials, even with Patrick Dempsey voiceovers, don't fix that. I've been teetering on the rim of that bowl until four Fridays ago when it became official that I was the only person I graduated with that I knew had failed the bar exam. Then it was sort of like I had stepped into one of these:
Fortunately, putting pen to paper -- or rather, html to web page -- has been like finding a good samaritan, Jamaican hero with a refreshing bottle of Red Stripe waiting outside my unexpected room of evil. And so I haven't completely lost my mind.
So, to anyone who has commented on any post lately, or even just read without leaving a trace, thank you. You have unwittingly been a wonderfully samaritan, alcohol-wielding, Jamaican man and I am so grateful. I've been able to maintain at least a modicum of perspective. And that led to this sight last night:
Now you have to look really closely, maybe squint, and default to your imagination if none of that works, kind of like you're doing for the setup of this very moment, because the iPhone camera doesn't zoom or flash, making it functionally irrelevant at night. But that, my friends, is a replica leg lamp from A Christmas Story in the top window on the corner of 13th and O NW.
If there's any cheer I love, it's cult-followed, retro, Christmas cheer. It empties that sadness bowl (a little) that I mentioned above. In the end, Ralphie triumphantly got his Red Ryder BB gun.* And I will have mine. And it will be sweet.
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*Yes, I know he then proceeded to shoot his eye out and then crush his glasses. Stop being so alert. Dream-crusher.
