me in the piazza

I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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Looking up...

Been a rough couple of weeks, folks. 9/11; David Thompson's death, which those of you in the writing world know was a big blow to everyone; then I heard that another friend recently died, something I hadn't known; my knee's been a problem, so I haven't been working out, which always brings me down; Yom Kippur, Day of Atonement and reflection, which was appropriate but didn't lighten my mood any.

Then this morning, first day of the new basketball season. I was thinking, my knee's a wreck, I'm a hundred and three years old, what am I doing? Why even go? But I went. I told myself, if I stunk up the joint, I was quitting, that's it, the end.

But guess what? I didn't. Not really, not entirely. I wasn't great, because I'm never great, but in my mediocre way I was okay. So I ran for an hour and a half, made some passes, made some cuts, shot a few, hit a couple. Sitting here now with ice on the knee, and as sometimes happens after a workout, I'm wondering if maybe this isn't quite as bad a world as I thought it was this morning.

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