Hey right so I came back, right?

My brain’s been a dorm room since I got back from Malawi.

I’m back from Malawi.

What do I mean by my clever metaphor? I’m having fun, eating a lot of pizza and watching a lot of TV but in the corner there’s a whole pile of granola bar wrappers and dirty laundry and creased-up papers detailing assignments that I should have done two weeks ago. Now that’s all metaphorical, okay?

I have no good reason why, but when I was over there doing whatever it is I was doing, blogging was nice. Nifty. And now, like the last time I did this, I feel like a tool when I type things out. That dorm room thing? Would I have posted that while I was in Malawi? That sounds so bleepin’ stupid. Like a dumb jerk trying to make his everyday life seem tasty and funny and relevant to people in the webosphere. Seriously. Webosphere? I typed that because blogosphere is an overused word and “on the web” would have been too commonplace. So, I haven’t wanted to blog for a long time, again. I’m forcing myself right now.

So I decided to come home just a bit early because the GF had some medical issues that were stressing her out just a teensy bit—which is to say, she might have had cancer. So I pulled out a few weeks early and I’m home now. I had one of those invigoratingly hellish last weeks in Malawi where I got a few hours of sleep a night and didn’t remove my shoes for about 4 days trying to get everything done. Everything got done. I found a good home for my kitties, spent all the surplus money from the Zikomo Project on orphans’n’sickpeople’n’schools’n’ that kind of stuff, took some pictures, bought some souvenirs, and left. I almost missed my flight because a friend bought me a drink as we were waiting to leave. I said “sure, one drink can’t hurt.” But the drink was about 14 ounces, 8 of which must have been brandy. And as the plane is boarding, 30 minutes behind schedule, I show up at Customs (not the gate, mind you) going, “Uhh, am I late?” Fortunately they were nice enough to whisk my dumb butt through and I got on the plane.

Saw some hippos before leaving. That big yawny thing they do? They really do do it. A lot. Also lots of monkeys, a ton of those antelope-type things with the curly horns like a snake coiled around an invisible branch, and supposedly a green mamba, though I’m suspicious. Are they really supposed to speak in a cockney accent? This one for some reason confused me with a governor of some sort. Polite though.

Oh, Hillary (GF) doesn’t have cancer, turns out. Possibly should have mentioned that earlier.

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I finally ate bugs before I left. The ones with the wings that you peel off. Now just listen. I’m not doing the thing where you try to make yourself sound really exotic and cool in saying “Oh, they actually tasted pretty good.” But they actually tasted pretty good. On Colbert the other night a guy came on to pitch his newest book, which is about, among other things, why we should eat bugs (because it’s good for the environment and they’re full of vitamins and stuff). And because of my breathtaking African adVENture, I can actually say he’s got a point and he’s probably right.

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That blog post that Catapult Magazine used? They also put it into a book, apparently. Which is cool. You read it here first, folks. I now technically have original work published in two real books with ISBN’s and everything. In the other original work, however, it’s under the pseudonym Adam Solberg, since they wanted to make me sound Jewish. I’m actually telling you the truth here.

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Can I say that I rather hoped that going to Africa would make me feel better about race relations? And it didn’t, really. I guess it might have made up for an upbringing in a place where between the ages of 0 and 21 I saw like three black people, but I still am so far from really understanding what it’s like to be a black dude on the West side of Chicago. I guess that’s sort of the point (that I’ll never understand), but still. Actually, the best education I get these days is listening to Lupe Fiasco or Talib Kweli (whom I really like) and Ghostface Killah or Wu-Tang Clan (whom I like too but can’t honestly say I can quite make the bridge over into my own experience when it comes to the lyrical venom (hate?) and guns and bravado.) Then again, I didn’t grow up under the long legacy of slavery and the injustice that seems to show up when the Haves think they deserve what they’ve got and that the Have-nots are just lazy and stupid.

You say you worked your way up the ladder? Well, if you’d started where they did, down in the muck, I’d give you your props. But do you even realize that you started three quarters of the way up?

Yes it’s all very fascinating.

Hi everybody.