I’m sitting at a bar feeling shitty, lamenting about the hows and whats of my very privileged future, worrying over very solvable puzzles, and being very, very “first world”, as it were. I mean, come on, relative to most of the world? Pshhhh.

But, in spite of this admission, I digress. Here I sit, reading a book my son Logan gave me – you know, really getting into a genre I haven’t revisited since King’s glory days – when suddenly? A bug flies up my nose. No, really. That just happened.

It’s as if that fucker was on cue: Me as Truman, quietly and feverishly reading, and she/he/they (I have no clue how they identify), roaring in as the comedic scene break, an animated little fly, fast moving and furious. And I’ll be damned if that fricking suicide bomber didn’t lodge itself right up inside the mucus of my right nostril. What an asshole. I mean, why?

And suddenly: I am here, now, ever present, working my hardest to blow this little asshole out my nostril and I am In. The. Moment., Mother Fucker. And the world? All that is happening around me? It just doesn’t matter much (as I’m hacking and gagging and spitting) and little follow up will be forthcoming.

So, I guess, thanks to the kamakazie fly? I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve been snatched back to the moment quite as quickly. Guess I’m grateful. I mean, at least that stupid bug got me stopping with the whole victimization bullshit. So, yeah – even though that asshole was stuck up my nose for an hour or so (not kidding), Ima stop at gratitude.