When you have friends like this…

After my outlaw (what I call any former in-law) failed to meet up with me last night, he sent me the best email I’ve received this month. His nickname is “C-Murder,” thus his sign-off:

“I missed your call last night, after I failed to check my calendar during the day.

But that was before I got drunk in the back yard and passed out in the shed after dinner.

I hit my head on a stack of snow tires that don’t have any studs left. Except the one that lacerated my forehead. 

I woke up somewhere in Creswell without pants. Bleeding profusely from above my left eye. Your voice mail came through sometime around 9pm. 
I sat on the railroad tracks and cried.
I’m sorry. 
I’m free tonight though. My house? So-and-so made plans to go out. 
C Murder”
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Maybe I’m A Dirtbag?

I realized – last night – that I was going to see my mom (who’s here, visiting from Arizona), and that I smelled terrible and couldn’t remember the last time that I’d showered. Friday maybe? Or maybe it was Thursday? I know I paddled the river on Saturday, which is pretty much the same as showering…

Since that river bath, over the next five days, I’d climbed twice, biked six times, gone for a run, played soccer twice, and lifted weights four times. Plus there’s that whole Summer Sun Angle (Heat) = Sweat thing.

I’d also mowed the lawn, worked in the yard, gardened, and picked up dog poop in the sun three times.

For my mom, I took a shower.

Release of Brendan Leonard’s Funny Shit In The Woods And Other Stories

From the best of Semi-Rad.com, here’s my Amazon review of Brendan Leonard’s book:

“If you like humor, the outdoors, insightful observations, ridiculous confessions, coffee, short stories, intentionally bad drawings, and people who are nearly, kinda, almost, sorta rad, then this is the book for you.”

Click here to see the book.

Leonard is a contributing editor and writer for Climbing Magazine, Adventure Journal, and The Dirtbag Diaries. He enjoys living out of his van in the American West.

Failing Writer #8.

Because all writers, even failing writers, have to read…

Here’s my book list for the past six weeks:

1. Norman McClean’s A River Runs Through It.

2. Annie Proulx’s Close Range, Wyoming Stories.

3. Nick Flynn’s Another Bullshit Night In Suck City.

4. Alice Sebold’s Lucky.

5. Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes.

Parts of books read:  The Portable MFA and The Adderall Diaries.

I usually read six to ten new books every summer (depending on how much time I’m writing.  As the poet Dorianne Laux once told me, “When you’re writing, fuck reading”).  And by the end of the summer, I’ve usually enjoyed half of my selections. But, strangely enough, this summer I haven’t hated a single book.  All five of those books were good books.  Another Bullshit Night in Suck City and Angela’s Ashes were more than good.  They were excellent stories and well written.

Now, on to the next.  Two or three more?