Sometimes You Have To Close The Shop

They pushed me hard to get details about things I have written, told me they knew there was something more there and complained.

Complained that they didn’t understand what I meant when I said sometimes you must bend or be broken and cried about how mean and unfair I am when I said sometimes I write my posts to one person and sometimes to 1,000.

“That is not an answer. I need more details.”

“Get used to disappointment.”

“Joshua, you are going to tell me…aren’t you.”

“I’ll make up a story that sounds plausible, reasonable and likely. You’ll buy it because I am that good at making shit up.”

They shook their head and asked why I am so angry.

“I already wrote about it and I am not interested in revisiting it. Let’s just say I let Lucy take the ball.”

“You’re an infuriating man.”

“If it makes you feel good, call me that or call me worse.”


Sometimes You Have To Close The Shop

A bunch of them ganged up on me, they called me names, repeatedly attacked me and kept coming.

Had I been a smarter man I would have just walked away and let them feast upon my absence but that aforementioned anger saw a safe outlet and unloaded upon them.

Fingers flying across the keyboard I battled back and forth, laughing when I forced some into name calling and or blocking me because that proved I had won.

I used to love that kind of thing, the online sparring and testing of knowledge and wit.

There are and were many who are faster, smarter and better than I, but I didn’t find many. Sometime I wonder if that is an indictment of where I chose to hang my online hat or if maybe I was better at this than I realized.

Started to wonder if maybe I ought to try to up my game and occasionally went looking for bigger game.

Somewhere along the way it got a little stale and I began to wonder if it was a waste of time. That question was only accentuated by what would happen sometimes when they found my other online refuges.

Emails, comments and ridiculous m0ments became more common and I began to consider my options more seriously.

Began to think that closing up shop at one or more of these spaces and places was the smart move.

Maybe that would leave to time savings that would provide opportunity for better posts. Some of these have been pretty raggedy.


Talked with another blogger about it and listened as they said to keep going because readers like consistency and wondered when I became so jaded.


Because within a few days of closing shop most people will have moved on, especially given the 1,090,093 other blogs out there.

That is not an indictment of myself or my work–it is just reality. It is how it is and unless I start working a hell of a lot harder that is how it is likely to stay.

When Did We Get To Be So Damn…Old?

I worked out with a personal trainer today.

Kid is 22 and he kicked my ass.

It was a good workout and I appreciate his time and help but I don’t appreciate the impossible to miss reminder about how damn old I am.

Yeah, some of you are older than I am…significantly. Some of you will tell me I don’t understand how young I am the same way I snorted at the 22 year-old when he said how hard it is getting back int0 shape after some time off.


We used some pretty light weights today and I made a point to put my ego aside and not push to use something heavier.

That was a smart move because the exercises we did with those weights got progressively harder and  I don’t know if I could have done as much as I did with anything heavier.

Better to try and be patient and not let the reflection in the mirror make me try to be a time traveler. I can’t move the clock back to 1988, ’95 or 2004.

Can’t pretend I haven’t accumulated as much mileage and associated wear/tear upon this body. All I can do is try to take the slow and steady path towards being the best I can be at this age.

Sometimes that sucks.

(Visited 17 times, 1 visits today)


Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Please enter an e-mail address

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

You may also like