Catching up is hard when the past is already so far away.

Two years gone by and what have I to show for it?

I have nothing new to bring you. I still write for almost all the same websites I did before my hiatus from here. I am still married to the same woman (which in itself is cause for celebration; fuck the naysayers, because they don’t mean a thing). We’ve been through hell the last couple years. We’ve also found some pockets of joy in that hell, like a man who escapes drowning by finding some air in his capsized canoe.

It’s hard to remember all at one time. I don’t foresee sitting down with a pipe in my mouth, like Hal Holbrook playing Mark Twain, and pounding the last two years into one post. “Ah remembuh, was back in the summah of Twenty-Aught-Eleven… .”

Please. I’m no oral historian. It’s amazing I can remember what I ate today. Eggs and grits, for the curious.

So I’m afraid we’re going to have to adopt one of the gimmicks used so frequently on the Island: the Flashback. When I remember something worth noting, I’ll note it as such, either in the title or within the post itself.

How we got from there to here is certainly an interesting story, but one I can only tell in chunks, small blocks of non-sequential memories. A lot of it hurt, and my brain has tried to get rid of it the way you throw up a bad ball-park hot dog. It will all come back, though, and it will all come forward.

New Total Recall Movie - Total Recall Movie Reboot - Total Recall Remake

Bear with me.

I’m making a point.

…two years later…

EXTREME CLOSE-UP: A human eye, opening suddenly. The camera pulls back to reveal X, lying down on the ground.


What happened? Am I… am I back… on the Island? Oh gods, no! I can’t take the… where the hell am I?

CUT: A bare foot kicks X in the ribs. A female voice speaks. It is his wife, COOTIE.


Get up, doofus. Help me unpack.

CUT: X, still sleepy, gets up and staggers about the room.


So this is… are we… home?

CUT: Cootie, who smiles and takes a sip of sangria.


Darlin’, home is wherever you are. But if you’re talking about the new apartment, then yes, we’re home.


Are we in New Otherton?

COOTIE approaches X with a box cutter.


Stop it. Now get some boxes empty before I cut you. Ain’t nothin’ to me to cut a bitch.

CUT: X stumbles out onto the balcony, which overlooks a busy Knoxville road.

X (screaming)


End scene.

Roll opening credits.