Saturday, June 24, 2006


My relationship to you is that of a harmless drunk uncle to his spoiled, pampered nieces and nephews. I make you smile with my unintentionally comic lurching and bellowing. I keep you passably entertained during family gatherings that are otherwise deathly dull. Then, when I need you the most-- when an all-night binge has left me locked out of my apartment with soiled trousers and a mysterious rash, and I have paranoid delusions that the pawn shop guy is chasing me with an antique crossbow, and I am randomly dialing numbers on my cellphone and screaming for help to you, my beloved nieces and nephews-- you hang up on me. Oh no, we have no time to help poor silly Uncle Corn Chips. No, we must pack our bags for pony-riding in the Catskills. Uncle Corn Chips is funny in small doses, but otherwise just sad.

And this is why I must maintain a quantum of emotional distance from you, my beloved readers. I know that you are unavailable when times are tough. But it's ok. I can right this ship on my own. At the moment, I am suffering the incredible agony of spending two unexpected days in sunny Montepulciano, sorrowfully quaffing Vino Nobile and cramming fistfuls of pecorino and truffles into my mouth. From time to time, my Boon Companion and I will raise our tear-clouded eyes to the swallows soaring past the crumbling medieval walls and bell towers in this picturesque hill-town. You see, the B.C. has been stricken with pneumonia (but is recovering nicely, thank you) and we have halted our bi-wheeled peregrinations. Somehow, we soldier on.