Where the Hell is Everyone? Or: I HATE AUGUST

08/10/2009 9:59 AM |

Dear Beloved Readers of The Measure.

Conklin’s on Cape Cod, Mark is up the Hudson Valley, and Ben is, like, getting an amygdala implant or something. So you’re stuck with me today. Which means a lot of dream journal action; and some riffs on the dead-puck era and the role of the goon in the post-lockout NHL.

I’m also available to answer all your questions about romance, fear of death, and trouble at the workplace.

Sincerely Yours,

Jonny

UPDATE: Mark just walked in, so you can forget the hockey talk on the blog today. (But I’ll still answer your personal questions.)

4 Comment

  • ok, fear of death: I was thinking about that family that died in the helicopter crash on Sat., and the 16 year old kid who had the blog and how A/C Milan left their condolences on there. I’m sure that will comfort his family and loved ones. I will just say to his family if they are reading this- we are all very sorry for you here in NYC for what happened and hope you change your mind and come for a visit despite the tragedy.

    what is left of you after you die?

  • Well, gjk, that really is one of the most difficult things to contemplate, as it really boils down to a fear of being forgotten.

    This is a species of fear that we engage with every day, throughout our lives… when we leave a place, a job, a relationship, wondering what the point was, and how exactly others will see us as fixed historical characters in their own stories. I really feel like this particular fear is at the core of the art compulsion, the need to leave a more perfect record of how deeply we felt and how we saw the world (which is, in turn, a good way for the world to see us.)

    We can all rationally understand that the Sun will grow and consume the Earth in the next 50 million years, and that all of this will be ash. But we are still driven to leave behind a record of who we were and what we felt, as if we might reach forward into the future (with words, pictures, sounds) and create some kind of emotional resonance.

    And that’s why I blog.

  • Since I am actually here today I ought to chime in: I would agree with much of what Jonny said, and also suggest that much of what we define as grieving — feeling outwardly sad, and offering our condolences, as discussed and demonstrated here — is actually something that we do to assure ourselves that the same thing will someday be done for us.

    Who’s the best hockey goon you ever saw in person?

  • You mean at a rink? Or in person, at a party, where he beat the shit of some guy just because? The former, Bob Probert; the latter, Sean Brown.