But to be honest, the guy is good at writing hooks, both lyric and music, that just gets lodged in your head.
Because even I…
“Want a horse, I want a sheep
I wanna get me a good night’s sleep”
Author: Matthew Groff
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Earworm Wednesday: Maybe I Pick on Paul Too Much
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I’m a Podcast Guest
Come up soon, I will be a guest on the “Mommy Has Questions” podcast. I took part in the hosts’ conversation about “men in crisis,” as well as a few other topics. Take a minute and check them out, and when the episode lands, I will post the link.
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My Place in the Chain
Boy, did I get yelled at by my daughter this morning, and I didn’t deserve it, but I let her do it. She was angry, not at me, but she did take it out on me. I thought it best to let her express her frustration at having to go to school on a Monday morning.
She is just now beginning to experience emotions that are much stronger than she can grasp or fully express. I need to pick my battles, clearly, but more importantly, I need to make sure she is given space to figure out what it is that she is feeling.
Somewhere, way up in the Either of the next plane of existence, my Mother is laughing her ass off right now. Because I fully deserve this. I deserve to get berated by my kid, because I was that kid not too long ago and did this to my mother. And I am sure that she did this to her mother, and so the chain – this cycle – continues on.
It is humbling, reassuring, and somehow also disconnecting, knowing that everything that I emotionally experience, my child will experience, and that my parents also experienced. That my emotional individuality is kind’a a sham. I’m not original; I’m just like my parents, who were just like their parents, and so on and so on.
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ODDS and ENDS: Tired, Mushroom Stock, and Writing in a Cafe
(Have you got nothing to say?)
I need more sleep. I think I have been saying this since I was fifteen years old. And I like naps, but what I am here to talk about is that I need more of the bedtime type of sleep. And what I also need is for my body to stop waking up between 5:30a and 6a in the morning. That I think is what is holding me back. Sure, I could go to bed earlier – that’s logical. But what is more logical is for my brain to stay turned off until 7a or 8a. That would be the biggest help. See, if I go to bed at 9p to 10p, my body wakes up at 5:30a. If I go to bed at midnight or 1a, again, the body wakes me up at 5:30a. I’ve tried to explain to my brain and body that all the cool shit in the world happens between 11p and 2a – its a magical time. So, if we could adjust that internal wake up call, then all parties would be happy. Could you do that for me?
I make my own mushroom stock for Thanksgiving. I’m not bringing this up to toot my own horn here, as the recipe I use is stupidly simple. Anyone could do it. No, the reason I bring this up is because not too long ago, at least in Manhattan anyway, it was easy to get mushroom stock at virtually any grocery store. Then all of a sudden it disappeared. Couldn’t get it anywhere. I could order it online, but to do that, I had to buy in bulk, like six cartons, when all I needed was just one quart. Same thing with shrimp/seafood stock. It just disappeared from the store shelves.
I write in a cafe now. Not all the time, but a few days a week. Nothing special here, just something that I started doing again. It took about a month, but now the guys who work at the cafe recognize me, and get my coffee ready when I walk in the door. It’s a part of being a “regular” in New York City that makes living here cool.
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Short Story Review: “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff
(The short story “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff appeared in the November 10th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)
Photograph by Bryan Schutmaat
“Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff is a good story, except for one thing. And I’ll get to that.
But before I get to that, this story made me think about the world my mother lived in. She was married with three sons, and though she told us she loved it, she did have to deal with three stinky boys, who became men, and all the baggage that came with it. Later in life, when me and my brothers got married and had our own families, did it start to dawn on us how much of her life was confined with masculine demands. In that context, much of what is expressed in this story by the narrator rang true to me; that men are always in her house, how her boys were now men, and the need for her home to be a safe place.
When the stalker is added to the story, and thus kicking off the plot, the menace that this man places on the narrator, is not only an immediate threat to her, but also to her home, and these men in her life. And this stalker is truly a threat, because he does have a gun. This weapon also functions as a reminder that violence and men are never too far apart from each other. Her husband has a baseball bat, her sons offer their own cocky protection to their mother, and the narrator even tries to enlist the workers from her home renovation for additional security. All of this raised interesting questions of violence and safety, of masculine and feminine roles, how a mother goes from protector of her sons, to needing protection from them. Even the title of story, which is also the title Catholics use in reference to Mary mother of Jesus, wasn’t lost on me, and added another layer to the piece. Great stuff.
And then the climax happened. The stalker enters the home at night, the narrator is unable to take action, so her son asks the stalker to leave, which the stalker does. And it felt completely incongruent to everything that had come before in the story. This climax broke Chekhov’s Gun Rule, which means if you introduce a gun in the story, you have to fire it at the end. There was an expectation of violence, threat, even menace in this story, and to not deliver a resolution to that expectation left the ending of the story feeling hollow. And I did spend time thinking about this climax and the choices that were made, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion – the gun needed to be fired.
