October 19th, 2026 - Chuck Murphy's Last Run
Dear TNY,
I’m a little late today, but “Chuck Murphy’s Last Run” hath passed before mine eyes.
Firstly, I’m late because host dad came up for the weekend to do some tiling and it didn’t feel right to abscond to the Bethel bakery while he slaved away solo. There wasn’t much room to help, so we worked solo…in tandem. And, as he arrived late, he left late. But as he was leaving, host mom arrived and now it feels, again, a guilt-ridden action to head off to flirt with words whilst work is happening. But, they both work full time jobs so when they come out here to work, they always end up sleeping in, which is what host mom is doing right now. So here I am, sitting in front of the computer.
This story feels like it was an idea, tonally, that was amusing to the author. But as it is laid out on the page, it isn’t very engaging. We have bikers in what I believe to be Ireland (I googled County Sligo), which to me is already funny because bikers are a product of the good ol’ U.S. of A. and the badassery of the lingo gets a little pussified when you add in proper English and teatime. Then the characters are made geriatric, which is also supposed to be funny. You can see the scaffolding of juxtaposition which I’m sure the author thought would be “clever”. But, there are so many characters and none of them standout enough to become individuals, so it’s just a bunch of talking that fucking goes nowhere because there’s nothing to attach any empathy to. And I do see how it’s supposed to go. Present a humorous, dichotomous scenario to build a narrative and distract the reader, then introduce real shit at the end, when the reader is most distracted and exposed, thereby rendering them vulnerable to a sneak attack to the heart. But this story’s sneak attack is mid to weak, regardless of character depth. And when character depth is added to the formula, the weak attack absolutely falls apart before shot one is fired.
For a better story, one in which the exact same formula is used, try “Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned” by Wells Tower.
I honestly don’t have much to say about my life today. It’s going. I had a lot of really positive days in a row. Days so filled with hope and wonder that I wept. Days that were so beauty-laden that I can’t even hold onto them now to describe them to you. And I had a couple of bad days too. I can even tell you what triggered the series of bad days. I took the time to parse it out, you know? But I knew those days would pass and I would balance out again. And that I’d soar again. And that I’ll crash again too. The whole color palette is available to me. And, I allow it to flow through me. I do not mute colors or avoid them. In fact, I now invite the darkness because I know that’s the only way to truly appreciate the goodness and light. I feel like if all you strive for is goodness and light, then eventually you feel entitled to said wizardry, yet cannot appreciate it because it’s all you experience. But good news! Fuckery is coming for everyone, no matter what. So you can run and run, honey. Entropy and Murphy’s Law will find you when you least expect them.
So, good & bad. They’ve all been happening to me. And they will continue to happen to me. And I hope they continue to happen to you too. You know, Ben used to talk about how Gordon Ramsey wouldn’t eat shit food. Because he understood enough about food to know what was good and what was bad, and he had stated that he got to a place in life where he felt like it was wasting his time and energy to eat bad food. Ben felt that way about stories, or at least he did when we talked about it. But the reality is, I have time for bad stories, bad movies, and bad food. Because sometimes bad stuff is enjoyable for what it is: Bad stuff. But bad stuff, whether it’s shit food or a fucking lame story like this one or an upside down relationship that fucks one’s life up or the death of a loved one or pissing your pants in front of the kindergarten class or rejection after rejection after rejection, it all serves as a marker off which, to measure good stuff. Not just a marker for what is good and bad, but a way to intervene on the enjoyment of the good stuff to recognize how rare it is, thereby allowing one to fully be present for it, knowing it will soon depart.
That’s about all I have to say today. I still have guests and I need to get to teaching.
See you next week.
Nick
P.S. I made these finger joints. They were hard fought. I appear to have prevailed. As Wayne White would say, Maybe Now I’ll Get the Respect I So Richly Deserve.
