Sorrow Fatigue and Eight Shiny Things

I spent too much of last week glued to the news- everything from Gawker to the New Yorker- and feeling a mixture of sick fascination, guilt for that fascination, and exhaustion.

Here's a good summation from Lindy West at Jezebel (Don't read if you're averse to cussing.) Incidentally, I've been reading her ever since she wrote for the Stranger and MAN has her writing improved. Smart, smartly evolving lady writers turn my crank in all kinds of directions.

Also, oh my lack of god, I wanted to name my cat Tamerlane. A good thing there was nothing in his goofy little face to justify the name of a hotshot historical warrior man/deranged Chechen yobbo.

So here are some things that are nice and not sad and that I think about to give my mind a rest from being miserable and anxious, which doesn't help anything but is impossible to avoid.

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1) The other day I was in one of those trashy South Street shoe stores buying their ONE pair of untrashy flats, and I noticed those giant neon heels and thought only a drag queen would wear those. And sure enough, there was a pretty dude trying them on. 'You look skanky!' his companion said. 'I know!' he said, and bought them. 'I'm always right,' I thought.

2) Chris Hoy, my favorite track cyclist, announced his retirement with extraordinary grace. While I'm sorry to see him go, it's unusual for an athlete to recognize he's done and not keep plugging on until he is embarrassed. Also, an excuse to post the legendary Hoy legs:

Eek!

3) The inimitable Bike Snob is doing a ride and book signing next month. Ya'll better be there! 

4) The simplest songs can be amazing: 

All you can do is do what you must.

5) If you can get through this video without tearing up a little, you're a cyborg:

6) France legalized gay marriage too! Also, who knew how many bigots conservatives there were messing up the boulevards? Well sucks to be them. 

7) The swallows are back! I saw them zipping around the Schuylkill when I rode out the other day. Soon the tubby fledglings will be popping their heads out of the nest boxes, gaping away. I love swallows. 

I think the one in the hole is an adult. Fledgelings are fatter. 

8) A blog post I wrote for work featuring my opinions on Claes Oldenburg's horrible paintbrush is creeping up the google results for 'Paintbrush drip Philadelphia'. It is number five. Let's make it number one, shall we?

AND, with that shameful bit of self promotion, I am out. 

Coming up will be a SERIOUS essay about writing about places that don't exist. I'm working on it, but the world keeps persisting to exist and it's getting to me. So it's taking some time. 

--I