my careless contagion

The Love of My Life is a lovely book by British author Rosie Walsh. The Brits do some good writing, I must say, though I'm mostly familiar with classic English literature, the kind that makes you want to go for a walk on the heath or throw yourself off a chalk cliff. I wonder how many people who read romance novels realize the idea of romantic love is a relatively new construct. In fact, romance novels did much to popularize it. There is some argument, of course, but historians generally agree marrying for love is a new concept and not a base instinct. Romantic love, as we call it, lasts no longer than 3 years. No wonder so many marriages fail. True, love is just a choice we make, otherwise the Bible wouldn't tell us to love one another or for husbands to love their wives, etc. It's a choice. But, for most, they need the feeling of falling in love first. That chemical bond is necessary. Hormones. Attraction. A woman knows within seconds if she wants to make love to a man. M...

I spent a lot of time on this blog giving space to my own words. Today is different. Today I got the following in my inbox. I publish it here because I can't form my own words. I am beyond devastated. I replied to it, of course, but that was for me. Now this is for her. This is what Cindy wrote to me last night, which I read this morning. The above photo is one of my favorites. Maybe that's her now, finally at peace about me. Free. I hope so.  *** Hi Joshua, I don't know how to put everything into words that I've been processing in my mind for the last few weeks, but I'm going to do it as clearly as I can. My cousin said something last week that really brought some clarity to my situation with you and me. She was talking about how she was so undecided when her now-husband was pursuing her. She would be all in with him and then pull back and go through that cycle over and over again. Sound familiar? She recounted the story in Mark 11, when the Pharisees were asking J...

Unexpectedly, she came back into my life. There she was, at my door, and I welcomed her in. We talked. My heart throbbed with excitement. There she is, Joshua, the one you love! Right in front of you!  Being with her felt natural, like she'd always been there, like she would always be there. Like a part of me was returned or made whole. She just made sense. My favorite memories with her were simple ones: walking, talking, sometimes with Brutus  (the cheagle) and my son. There was the walk we took one summer day at a recreation area outside town. It felt like the rightest thing in the world to be with her.  It may sound strange, what I'm about to say, but it's true. I love the arrangement of her features. Her face and all its parts. Her body and how it's put together. I can't see inside, but I saw the outworking of its parts, and she is as beautiful inside as out. Her heart is my favorite feature.  The heart of that woman is precious. She displays a humility before t...

Nothing fascinated me musically as much as the band Bad Religion. I used to spend so much time researching the band and its members, even talking to Jay Bentley on internet relay chat (IRC), #badreligion on undernet. The fascination really took hold when I was in college. I was bored, technologically inclined, and a wee bit malcontent.  No band is as misunderstood as Bad Religion, and some fans like it that way. It's a barrier to the band becoming massively popular (they are more popular outside the U.S.), but it also makes you feel like you're in on the joke. Others don't understand. That's the reason hardcore and punk rock were important to a lot of people. It was a way of excluding those who excluded them from society. When our bands became too popular (a subjective thought if there ever was), we called them poseurs and fled to other, lesser-known bands. Gotta keep it real. But I was always into Bad Religion and remained a fan (even though I didn't share their po...

This is a new song, and it's pretty good. It sounds older than its release date of 2023. It got a lot of airplay, I didn't like it at first, but after about 10 listens it started to make sense (I may be a little slow). So much of country music is about drinking (thumbs down), but let's go with that for this post. Since I likely won't still be writing here regularly after the 28th, this is a good time for the annual sobriety post.  It was April 10 years ago when I stopped drinking. Every year I memorialize what God did in my heart then. It's nothing short of a miracle. It's a miracle I function. A miracle I'm still alive. I'm literally a walking miracle, and people walk by me like I'm some ordinary Joe. They have no idea.  A decade without drinking is a curious thing. It was supposed to kill me. Like I got a get-out-of-jail-free card. A new lease on life. A new life, new identity, new responsibilities. Alcohol was my way of ending myself, and slowly. ...

I sat on the floor of the top-floor apartment in Bowling Green, Ohio, I shared with my then-girlfriend and listened to this song, poring over the lyrics and staying quiet the entire 8-plus minutes, wanting only to hear the music and whatever it meant. (At the time, this song was barely more than 10 years old, as it came out in 1989.) I was drunk, but not too drunk to appreciate the sentiment. "That's a beautiful song," I said when it was over, seemingly to no one, but Mike, my then-girlfriend's friend who slept that night on the couch, heard. (I never did ask if he and her had a relationship in the past. Some things were better off not known.) And he agreed like it was always so. Yet I had just discovered it. Music no longer holds that sort of meaning for me. I'm all angst-ed out. You can say the same about pictures. I don't fetishize them either. Maybe working with photos for 7.5 years as a graphic artist and much longer as amateur photographer weaned me off ...

Now for some real music! Haha, okay, what is a guy who grew up on hardcore posting a euro-dance hit from the 90s? Because it's awesome!  (The kids say it slaps.) I would flip back and forth on the radio between alternative and dance in the 90s. A lot of kids were into one or the other, but I craved all of it. I love music, and this song is still a favorite. It may not be the best Real McCoy had to offer, but we all heard this back in the day and danced a little in our econobox cars on our way to the future. And here we are in the future. Some of us still remember what life was like back then. Are we where we thought we'd be all these years later?  Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far. Thought I would be dead. No joke. Having the opinion of a foreshortened future is a symptom of PTSD gained from childhood trauma/abuse, which I endured. Common with everyone who endured longterm trauma. So, I can't complain. Pay stubs and bandaids. Paying bills and doing dishe...

Holiday Road is synonymous with the National Lampoon movies, as it was was created for the original film's soundtrack and ended up on the rest. I recall watching the original couple movies as a kid. They were a bit raunchy, but I'm sure some of that was edited out, as we watched on network TV. I wouldn't let my kid watch them today. How times change.  No one cared what we did back then. Maybe should just speak for myself. Did anyone even know what we were doing? Generation X is sort of the lost generation, sons and daughters of Baby Boomers who were busy enjoying their lives and ignoring the fact they had kids. I was a latch-key kid, independent and resourceful. As I got older, I realized I missed out on a lot by being raised that way. How would I have turned out had I had a loving, tight family instead of being raised by wolves?  It's not that my family didn't love me, it's just that they erased that love with their harsh words and behavior. I am a strong perso...