They call me Dr. Worm. Good morning how are you? I'm Dr. Worm. I'm interested in things. I'm not a real Dr. but I am a real worm. I am an actual worm. I live like a worm. I like to play the drums. I think I'm getting good but I can handle criticism. I'll play you what I know and you can tell me that you think I'm getting better all the time (welcome to the inside of my head all weekend long)

Hello everyone, it's been so long, I don't even know where to start. I've written so many blog entries in my head on the train, lying in bed, staring off the back porch - but now that the opportunity has arisen I feel more the urge to direct you to other people's blogs that are really funny (like www.duncangilman.blogspot.com for one) rather than write anything. Ok, so I gave into the urge, and yet - I'm still writing...

It was my birthday on Saturday and I sang karaoke in Quincy with those friends who chose to brave the elements and risk life and limb to, well, sing karaoke with me. It was fun, but like a lot of things it seemed to end way too quickly and that made me sad. Efforts to prolong the evening with an impromptu after-party, graciously hosted by my old friend K. and his friends D., J., and A. yielded only acute insobriety and a pricey cab ride home (not without a flat tire ont he way home). Sometimes you have to just let go of the moment and not crush it to death by trying to experience it more (like Lenny and the pretty lady). My mom and dad came out to the karaoke bar and my brother and his wife L. hosted dinner before and were so, just, ultimately gracious and awesome and fun - picking up a lot of the bills and talking amiably and sincerely with the rag tag assemble of Katy friends from now and then... I felt very loved and taken care of... and old. Yes, of course, I also felt very old, but I guess that's part of the deal too.

So I have They Might Be Giants on the brain (that would be the Dr. Worm lyrics) also thinking a lot about Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, thinking about dreaming into doing, not being paralyzed by fear, that kind of thing. I am in great admiration of the performers and artists I see who have chased an improbable dream and succeeded - not because they were lucky, but because they wanted it enough to believe they could do it. I want that too.

For now maybe I'll just focus on the karaoke. The karaoke and the getting old. As if it couldn't get any more poignant, I rode the bus this morning with all of the Quincy High and Jr. High kids who live in my neighborhood (I had no idea there were so many, yikes). What a weird eye opener that was. Teendom is eerily exactly the same in every way as I remembered it. There was even this girl with an army bag purse with pins all over it and a black PeaCoat (with eyeliner to match) and she was sort of separate from all of the other girls who were wearing pajama bottoms and chirping and laughing carelessly (menacingly?). Maybe I imagined it, but I think I caught her eye on the bus and we exchanged a knowing look. I really wanted to tell her that none of this is real and once it's over and you graduate you won't even remember how intense and scary and inescapable it all was and it will all seem silly and funny and distant and ironic until your car dies and you take the bus one day with a bunch of 15 year olds and then you will remember and you'll wish you could help. Maybe she was just staring because I had something in my teeth : )

Ok, time for my flouride treatment. Hope everyone is well and won't have any heart problems after seeing that I actually updated my blog.