Due to a bicycle accident that has rendered me useless, I have no choice but to go on hiatus, a word that has many personal meanings. In my case, we need to look at the traditional meaning of the word, hiatus as seen in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Yeah, I broke my left arm, my writing arm, in a biking accident a couple of weeks ago. The details of the incident are so riddled with irony that I have been saying, “Alanis Morissette wrote her hit song Ironic because of me, just ignore the timeline”. My writing process requires using my left arm. The words flow through my fingers. Between the broken in two places arm and all the pain killers they require, this piece took a couple of days to write. So updating I Mean What will not be easy. And this surely is not fun. So I am taking a hiatus, unless something crucial happens that I must respond to and share with you. Until then, I will miss it and all of you.
Sure wish I was taking the another kind of hiatus, quite frankly. Like the one where you have just finished shooting the thirteenth episode of a quirky, new sit-com—that your producer believes will be the break-out, mid-season replacement—and are taking a well-deserved break in Cabo San Lucas. Naturally, you are hoping against hope that the network brass will order an additional thirteen episodes for a second season, but there is no telling what those suits will do once they show a few episodes to some random focus group in the Midwest; to people who have no sense of humor and won’t get the subtle jokes or the double entendres. So you spend your hiatus drinking and praying. Let’s face it, that scenario is the better of the two hiatuses, or is it hiatii?
3: an interruption in time or continuity. CHECK
4: a period when something (as a program or activity) is suspended or interrupted <after a 5-year hiatus from writing> I HOPE NOT
Ironic – updated from Alanis Morissette’s lyrics
I was zooming down Washington Street on my bike en route to a spinning class.
Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?
I was going to Soul Cycle,
Where you can only wear those special spinning shoes.
I have avoided purchasing them,
Because I have been spinning since 1993.
And just because spinning is currently “on trend”,
Far be it from me to follow the pack.
But isn’t it ironic that I bought a pair of those friggen spinning shoes,
And because the shopping bag that contained them was perched on my handle bar,
That while zooming down to Tribeca the bag got caught in the front tire and threw me for a loop.
A ten foot loop, I might add.
Isn’t it ironic that the arm I broke in two places is my left writing arm and I am a writer.
And by the way, I took the summer off to write my roman à clef and now have a broken writing arm.
Isn’t it ironic that I bought a dictation program that when installed, and definitely not the right way,
My computer started talking to me, really loudly, and I could not get it to shut up.
And isn’t it ironic that I have been taking many Jagged Little Pills.
Or that I have no one to sue because it was really all my fault.
Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? A little too ironic, and yeah I really do think.