Category Archives: Melancholy

Happiness

On hot days, the sun peeks through the basement window, shining a crack of light on the far wall, right above the TV. Maybe it’s a somber reminder the heat isn’t going away, that it’s oppressive outside, and you can’t … Continue reading

Posted in Cats, Melancholy | 4 Comments

Father’s Day

(Ed. note: This post was written more than a month ago. Couldn’t publish it till I was ready.) It is May 5, 2010. Yesterday I called my parents’ home, as I’ve done weekly since I moved away from home: Clear … Continue reading

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Taking a break.

This is impromptu, but I’m taking a short break. I will be back as soon as I can. Please don’t worry. And thank you for reading Mr. Faded Glory. Pearl Jam/”The End.” What were all those dreams we shared those … Continue reading

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A storm and a cat

Our company’s conference rooms are fairly chic, quite honestly, and as I sat through a semi-important meeting, I watched the sky darken through the full-length windows. Periwinkle and gray rolling into an eerie steel blue, daylight suddenly becoming a bizarre … Continue reading

Posted in Irony?, Melancholy, Myself | Tagged | 1 Comment

Sunday morning, tomorrow looming (part 2)

I’m staring at the email not unlike a kid packing his backpack before the first day of school. I don’t really want to go. I mean, I’ve enjoyed the time away. Six months of the NFL and college basketball and … Continue reading

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Somber

I’m trying to avoid most Cubs speculation, posting or the like, leaving that to the others. Today, however, the Cubs acquired a new fireballing reliever, Kevin Gregg, from the Marlins. This is a dubious move, first, because Gregg is terrible. … Continue reading

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In Bloom

Oh, you’re wondering about the book? Still soliciting agents, batting about .500. That means, 50 percent outright rejections and 50 percent ignoring me altogether. Still, it doesn’t pay to be discouraged. The market is crying for a story weaving together … Continue reading

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Symbolism: Greg Maddux

Tomorrow Mister Faded Glory turns 31. Not the blog, but John, its actual author. (The blog surprisingly has been around for more than five years. Stunning. Gaining readers, one at a time.) Probably surreptitious to suggest that at this point, … Continue reading

Posted in Melancholy, Myself | 1 Comment

Cleveland, 1987

On Tuesday, May 12, 1987, I couldn’t sleep. As usual, I was a bit petrified of navigating through the following day with few hours of shuteye, a ridiculous habit that began sometime when I was in second grade – my … Continue reading

Posted in Melancholy | 1 Comment

A moment for George

Not unlike most sardonic, sarcastic, jaded members of some self-effacing generation (X or Y, whichever), today we solemnly note the death of George Carlin. Of course we weren’t privy to the complete rise of Carlin, but discovered him during reruns … Continue reading

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Thanks for giving a care

Don’t even think about reaching me … I won’t be home. PJ, Footsteps.  We’re taking this week off from the blog. Before you leap from your desk chair, hurl your Chee-tos, and claim we took last week off, well, let’s … Continue reading

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No. 8

“Have you ever heard the story? Of Mister Faded Glory? Says he who rides the pony must someday fall. Talkin’ to my alter… He says life is what you make it… and if you make it? Well, death will wrest … Continue reading

Posted in Melancholy, Thirty before thirty | Leave a comment

Frayed around the ends…

I may be crazy, a little frayed around the ends. One of these days I’ll phase you out… No. 23, Foo Fighters, Breakout. My neuroses are out in full force as August winds down. The book’s not quite done, it’s … Continue reading

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The countdown to triple-X begins

That oughta boost my readership. Anyway, it’s now the dog days of summer (I think), and along with those come another fun-filled, hopelessly narcisisstic and whiny, and completely indulgent Mister Faded Glory Countdown! You remember last year, as we counted … Continue reading

Posted in Grunge, Melancholy, Thirty before thirty | 4 Comments

The Day I’ll Try to Live

Maybe it’s a Sunday, maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s nothing. Tomorrow, I’ll try to be better. But I can’t shake – tonight – the overwhelming feeling of dread, as though each second that passes moves me further away from … Continue reading

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