Tyler Weaver's Blog, page 31

Standing Still to Run

Once, weeks or years ago, I was asked by one of my running route denizens if I ever took a day off. My response: No, but only because it’d get too easy to take two days off.

Though I’m still on the mend from the past few days or centuries or whatever worth of health fuckery – probably a full-court press on illness’s part since I didn’t get sick all summer – today is the first of those days I’ve decided to not run.

This is, undoubtedly, a calculated risk (made more so with the perpetual bala...

Alive, Approximately

… one of those days where “feeling like walking death” is a charitable description of my current state but the discipline (and the point) of these pieces requires that I post here Monday through Saturday (nevermind Newsletter Sundays) so here I am, hopping /skipping /jumping somewhere in the valley between 40 and 60% functionality, depending on the nanosecond. I think this may be all I have for you right now, sorry… am I apologizing to you, my lone reader – or to the website itself?

Memory Cartridge: HOLE-IN-ONE GOLF (SNES)

Months to weeks to days to hours, Christmas Eve, 1991: the year of the SNES, the day spent in anticipation, the hours trickling by, until, finally: evening. Shrimp and cocktail sauce and waiting and waiting and more waiting – eyeballing the big box under the Frasier Fir, circling. There may have been a cheeseball.

And then, “I think it’s time to – ”

For some reason or another, I avoided THE BOX and went for a smaller one – perhaps the mystery of this smaller box was more appealing than the...

Wrist-Cyborg, Day 11

With the exception of the sporadic curiosity – vanishing shopping lists (“You don’t have a shopping list” as the nails-on-chalkboard of my wrist-augmented / PIP-Boy life); inconsistent podcast syncing with Overcast; the random MultiTimer timer going off on the phone instead of the watch; and phantom midnight heart rates when I’m not wearing the watch or clutching my phone (at least consciously) – my Apple Watch and I are still getting along swimmingly.

May have said it before but I’ll say it...

A Modicum of Clarity Amidst the Post-Breakfast Fog, Maybe

Wrote in Sunday’s newsletter of my efforts to reconcile with myself that I no longer have to rush through my day – debatable though it was that I ever had to – and am now, with the exodus from the cabin in the woods and its attendant duties behind me, able to partake in earnest efforts to resuscitate my dead career, if it was ever alive to begin with.

(For the purposes of this digital self, I’ll pretend that it was.)

While the addition of an afternoon block of 90 minute book work feels as t...

A New Sanctuary for Thought Exorcism

Swapped out my beloved Midoris for the Baron Fig Confidant Plus notebook (dot grid – though I’m about 50/50 that I’ll go with blank page for the next one – and there will be a next one).

Though the Midori is a wonderful dance partner for the Lamy Safari (even more so now with the pre-packed medium nib swapped out for a fine nib), I couldn’t shake a long-held desire to return to hardback – and a steadfast refusal to fall back into the B&N impulse buy darkness of Moleskine’s onion skin paper (...

Almost ten years old and our post-dinner frisbee game is...

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Almost ten years old and our post-dinner frisbee game is still his favorite thing in the world.

Dispatches from the Aftermath of Another Family Gathering…

… those quarterly–or–more reminders that my general monastic isolation for the other 360 days of the year probably isn’t the best for my health, social or otherwise. Perhaps those days that I find myself most worried that I’m going feral are similar to the effect of full moons on Lon Chaney, Jr: the wolf is always inside, and it’s on the days when the wolfsbane blooms and the moon is full and bright (or I have to interact with others) that I feel at my most feral, flinging excrement or clam s...

Antique ballot box; couldn’t leave the shop without it.

Antique ballot box; couldn’t leave the shop without it.

One Last Story About My Friend

When the four of us first went out as a group, in my first “married couple” friends outing – five years ago now – my spiderwebbed iPhone 4S, shattered the previous winter in the Kohl’s parking lot and held together by the adhesive embrace of an overpriced screen protector, was the subject of much amusement.

From that point on, whenever we got together, I made a point to show my friend that I hadn’t caved, that I hadn’t relented – cheek shrapnel be damned. And likewise, she made a point to te...