Monday, June 25, 2007


Not funky like Fred Wesley or Maceo Parker... Funky like no appetite. Knots in my gut. Icky pallor. Maybe it's the gross humidity. Or maybe I'm a little bit sad that tomorrow is my last day at the Practice (oh, who am I kidding? Last week, my coworkers had an actual pizza party for me and even my boss was confused, "Wait, you've been here six years and all you get is a pizza party? And isn't your last day next Tuesday?")... Maybe I miss my husband who has been working his ass off high above the city skyline...
Maybe I feel like I was too impatient with my sweet (though very devilish,lately) Kid (if I'm sick of my own voice today, imagine how he must feel...ugh).
Maybe I am anxious about my mom's health... Maybe I wish my brother would get his act together before his baby is born. Maybe I am still intimidated by that gnarly section of trail down by the water at Marysville. It's just a funk...nothing more, nothing less.


Suki said...

embrace the funk.

I just read an article; something to the effect of "HOW TO BE SUPER DUPER HAPPY FOR EVER AND EVER AND EV..."

the gist of the article was such:

-we need our funks to incent us to seek good things (sex and food in particular), but the concept can be expanded to include...oh, say...pushing hard on a beesickle, perhaps?

-the human psyche is waaaaay more resilient than we think in terms of major losses, yet...

-we suffer the greatest discomfort from an accumulation of much smaller things

so chances are if you're all funked up right now...

its only so the non-funk smells that much sweeter.

Frank Brigandi said...

I heard about that creek section.

JenBob said...

that creek section put me in the water last year. No big deal. Refreshing really. I was hauling ass to catch up after my pedal exploded and got replaced. Wasn't paying attention and I took a splash.

There are definitely better lines then others.

Attack it and you'll be fine.