Category: Ramblings (page 2 of 2)

The good folks of Maine were stricken by some sort of disease last month. None of us knew what it was, but nearly all of us were affected, me included. At first, I thought it was a simple head cold induced by some dust that was cast into the air by a propane heater fan. Dust has been a trigger for me for most of my life. In fact, back in 2012, I trained Muay Thai at a club in Connecticut that used forced hot air as its heat source. The heat used to run while we were in class. That year, I caught seven head colds in the one season due to the dust spewed from the system. It was terrible.

This is going to be an odd post. I’m not even sure what I’ll write. As of this moment and as I sit here and think, I’ve yet to conjure up anything that seems remotely cohesive. I suppose though, I’ll try my best. For me, that’s what these types of situations call for – my best. The issue at hand is that I’m feeling a certain way and I’ve yet to determine an effective articulation for those feelings.

Back in the 1990s, there was a quarterback for the New York Giants named Dave Brown. I remember watching him play. He was one of the best quarterbacks I’ve ever seen throw a ball. When Dave was on, he was really on. And when he was in this state, he seemingly transformed the football into a missile. Such accuracy and elegance. And speed! Boy, I remember watching those games when Dave was playing well. It was like nothing could stop him.

Throughout my life, I’ve lived in New York, Georgia, Connecticut, Florida, and Maine. I’ve never really concerned myself with my cars rusting out until I arrived in Maine. In New York and Connecticut, yes, the winter roads are sanded and salted, but I’m not sure I noticed any discernable difference between when I purchased a vehicle and when I sold it, rust-wise. Nothing ever seemed to happen in a bad way. That’s not to mean that cars don’t rust in those states because they certainly do. I have a long history of family members needing to repair holes in their floorboards – you know the type; you’re a little kid driving down the road with your father in his old truck. You can see the blacktop and painted street lines pass you by underneath your feet. Yeah, those good ol’ days.

Wood stove season is upon us. I’ve been waiting for this all summer long. Back in April/May, I cut some trees, split some logs, and stacked some firewood. Now it’s time to burn. “Burn what?” you ask. Right now, mostly balsam fir and white pine. “But that’s softwood – pine,” you say. Yes, I know it is. And it’s wonderful.

The above picture is not one of me. I repeat, that ain’t me in the picture. That dude is a freak and a freak is something I strive not to be. And now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I’ll go ahead and write a political post that I’ll surely one day regret writing.

Welcome to my new personal blog. My name is Jay.

I’ve said this countless times, but I think I’ll say it again. I like to write. I’ve deduced that my writing, or shall I say, blogging, is my hobby of choice. I’m not a great writer, but when it comes to blogging, I’ve got a lot of experience. Whether that experience has translated into any sort of quality remains to be seen. Whatever the case, here I am, blogging away.