March 9th, 2026 - Calm Sea and Hard Faring

Dear TNY,

I did not finish “Calm Sea and Hard Faring” and I’m thankful for the time I got back by doing so.

I could tell by the first paragraph, so thickly Californian with its politics, traffic, highways, etc, that this was going to be a story about superficial people talking about superficial shit.  And it was!  I made it about five pages in (as per my copy/paste document).  Too many names too quickly with no defining features for any characters so it came off and jumbled words and poor writing.  Actually, I found myself wondering how this got published at all but then I remembered that you, TNY, are the mother of all nepo producers.  The work doesn’t have to matter, you are just a billboard for the publishing giants, helping prop up their garbage writing.  I forgot that you don’t stand for literature, you stand for profits.  Way to go.

I don’t have much else to stay.  I went to Seattle.  I went to my appointments.  Here’s a summary:

Heart:  I’m still rocking AFib sometimes, but it’s minor because of the meds.  I’m wearing a Zio patch for now and have a referral to an EP for a future ablation.  The cardiologist seems to think I’m a good candidate.  They did an echo and my heart looked fine.  They shaved my chest again.  Did some other shit.

Sciatica:  They did an X-ray and I have arthritis on my spine.  I guess all those backflips for years, especially the ones off roofs, they caught up to me.  I have a referral to some other folks and it’s looking like a steroid shot in the nerve.  We’ll see how that goes.

Wrist:  Not broken.  This was a relief.

Acne:  Not acne, actually.  A form of rosacea that has little pustules, which is so attractive.  I got a cream.

Liver:  Honestly, labs came back fine.  Doctor did not recommend rehab. 

Pancreas:  Not pancreatitis.  I don’t have the main symptom for that, which is extreme unexplained weight loss.  I have gastritis.  He gave me some pills to take when I feel the gags again.

Both the cardiologist and the PCP gave me the same talk.  It’s about stress.  My high blood pressure, rosacea, arrhythmia, gastritis, and depression are all linked to an extreme level of stress.  Yes, reducing alcohol would make a difference.  But they were all clear:  If my life doesn’t change, the alcohol reduction won’t do anything.  It’s my life that’s the problem.  Rather, it’s me.  I’m the problem.  Which doesn’t sound very solvable to me.  But there you have it.  My brain is a wild animal that is trying to chew its way out of the trap.  And…that’s on brand.

Not much else to say.  My life is pretty boring right now.  I’m going to maybe start building some this week.  That will be an experience.

See you around.

Nick

P.S. I went on an adventure Saturday and it was pretty great. Started at the pinball museum, which is in Chinatown, so there was a lion dance happening which was loud with all the drumming and cymbals and fireworks and the lion ate the cabbage after going into the museum, then I had all sorts of shellfish and watched tourists pose with geoducks, then went to some karaoke, which was fucking fantastic, and then a little more pinball before a hair-raising scooter ride. I didn’t feel sad for most of it. I seem to have forgotten what I was for a while. I’ll forget again. But for now, I’m the fucking prize.