Author: Matthew Groff

  • VOTE!

    It’s the day of the election, ya’ll!

    Go vote!

  • Earworms

    (I’m talking about music earworms. This is your warning. What follows may get stuck in your head.)

    When you say “earworm” to my wife, she immediately thinks of the ear bugs from Star Trek 2. The one that Khan put in Chekhov’s ear. Which is awful and gross, and not what I am talking about.

    NO, I am talking about the earworm of a song that gets stuck in your head, and for the past two days, I have had “The Real Slim Shady” playing, ahh, pretty much non-stop. Now, what I am hearing isn’t the album track. No, I keep hearing this:

    Which is kind’a weird, right? A piano version of the song, no lyrics or anything else; just piano.

    Then, from time to time, I’ll get John Tesh’s NBA theme bouncing around.

    Sometimes when I’m walking around the City, this will play in my head:

    Does anyone remember “Riptide?”

    I guess I’m just talking about tv theme songs now. I always liked “Taxi.”

    Back to the point… “Summer Breeze.”

  • ODDS and ENDS: DMV Time, Tottenham Confusion, Merch Store, and Vote

    (I feel so bad, I got a worried mind…)

    My driver’s license is going to expire soon. This means that I need to make my quadrennial appointment with the New York State DMV. Unlike most people, I don’t mind wasting time at the there. Normally, I get some good reading in, or have a fun time people watching. In New York, they let you schedule appointments. It implies that you will be seen at a certain time, but really, these appointments are just guidelines; a mere suggestion of when service will be rendered. Hence why I bring a book. And it’s easy to dump on the people who work at the DMV. What I have found is that if you are pleasant and show up with the correct paperwork filled out, the DMV staff not only is surprised that they don’t have to explain the process to you, their actually relieved.

    So, let me get this straight… Tottenham can beat Man City, but they can’t beat Crystal Palace? Right…

    The Merch Store is open people. All items share my philosophy of the type of blogger that I am.

    You should vote, if you haven’t already. Make a plan. Tuesday is the final day, you know.

  • Happy Halloween!

    It’s not Halloween without The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

    And it can’t be The Great Pumpkin, without the Great Pumpkin Waltz, by Vince Guaraldi.

    Happy Halloween!

  • Short Story Review: “From the Wilderness” by Yukio Mishima (Translated from the Japanese by John Nathan.)

    (The short story “From the Wilderness” by Yukio Mishima appeared in the November 4th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Joanna Blémont

    How does the phrase go; “The unexamined life is not worth living.” At least, that’s the philosophical dictum that has been credited to Socrates. Some days, I think that is the job of a writer; to examine life and make it worth living. That was the mind space I was put in when I finished reading “From the Wilderness” by Yukio Mishima.

    Here’s my overly simplified synopsis: A mental unbalanced youth breaks into the home of the author, which causes the author to contemplate life and loneliness.

    Couple of things here. I appreciated the structure of this piece. The first part was from the author’s point of view of the incident. Then the second part was an overall description of the entire incident, showing how the other people in the home reacted. Then the final part was the author contemplating the event, trying to make sense out of it. In this structure, the narrative of the event goes from very narrow, to expanding to a wider view of the many people in the home, and finally taking in the world of the intruder, and the larger world in general. In this way, the narrator goes through a progression of expansions, which leads to the author having a new understanding of the world he lives in, and creating a feeling that a journey has commenced.

    But what I enjoyed most was that this was a story that took its time. Mishima was patient with his storytelling, letting the ideas of loneliness evolve and develop, which had a natural and authentic feeling to it. I know this is a work of fiction, but with the narrator also having the same name as the author, it creates a conundrum of how much of this is fiction, or reality? Sure, it’s a device, but played well here as it lends itself to give a legitimacy to the thoughts and conclusions.

    They don’t make stories like this anymore. Short fiction that enjoys language (Bonus points to this translation,) playing with language, and isn’t afraid to take time, but not waste our time. Maybe this wasn’t the most profound story I have read recently, but Yukio Mishima reminded me that life is meant to be examined.