April 20th, 2026

Just got back from Southern Discomfort. A yearly roller derby tournament where many people I find unique and enjoyable in this world gather to officiate. This year was no different.

I worked again with a variety of humans: men, women, trans individuals, they/them's, fast food workers, psychiatric doctors, speech pathologist; really every walk of life from many generations. One of my favorite humans is a 60+ year old woman, a former police officer who lives in Florida. I've worked with her since 2013 at various events. She is one of the kindest and most awesome people I've met in derby. Still dyes her hair blue. The ride home is always dominated by a large empty space left behind by the over indulgence in social interaction and continual self-reflection that I think that comes along with most if not all officiating roles. And now I can't sleep. 2:00am creeps by.

Anywho as my grandmother would say. This is a song that speaks a bit to me that I've had on multiple playlists for years. Listen to Pneumonia by Me Like Bees. Here is the song with the lyrics that are copied below. They resonate. This song is like Modest Mouse finds deep poetry.

Pneumonia by Me Like Bees, written by Peter Burton, Luke Sheafer

From the album The Tides

"I have this problem where I'm already measuring how you'll react

 Before I even finish what I was gonna say

 I dance around my thoughts like they're a fire

 And if I order my steps in just the right sequence I could make it rain

And it isn't a joke, or some poem I wrote

 It's the shadow tracing back to every word I spoke

 Well, burn brighter if you can't fix the house that you were born into

 Then put a match to work and see what fire can do

And cut cleaner if the hanging fray causes you to cling to the old

 Ways and means and methods then the knife was too dull

 And so the lesson becomes on how you fix a problem

 Can yield a grimmer consequence than what you kept from

And I have found this

And I have found this

A full measure shaken down, spilled over was the cup I had drawn

Took me one little tumble and the thing was half gone

And half-full is a fool's assessment when the ledger is red

And the deficit is only ever making ahead

And though a slow motion spill, looks real cool in a film

In either case the result is typically a mess

And I have found this

My soul held a measure and the ledger was null

My feet found a dry place to count in the cold

And it's all coming due now

I felt my sorrow pulling in on the fabric of days

All of time bunched up, converging like a senator's blade

And my mind raced over all of everything that happened then

But it halted at the thought of things about to begin

Cause my heart held a ledger and my credits were full

My feet set to walking out alone

My heart held a ledger and my credits were full

My feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold

Now about how one goes on one's own

Saying "Hey babe, this place ain't so cold."

Well don't ya know, there's only one of ya

You just might end up with pneumonia

And about how one might slow one's roll

To an amount down to faking control

Well I guess that would depend on it

The kind of time you want to spend on it

Stand-offing often pays off, but I am pondering well

Might be stepping down wasn't really so low

When my feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold

And my lungs were full

And praise be to the father forever

Who can take a dead thing and make it green

Only ever restoring

My soul held a ledger and he paid it in full

When my root was a dead snag out in the cold

Then the drums kicked in

And I was spilling out some feverish thing

But the amps were cranked up so loud

Well, I didn't think you'd hear

And how about them something or others

I had seemed to say

Well maybe listen closer and I'll try to sing clear

My tongue held a ledger and my credits were full

My feet found a soapbox to stand in the cold

My tongue held a ledger and my credits were full

Consequences of grandstanding out in the cold

Now about how one goes on one's own

Saying "Hey babe, this place ain't so cold."

Well don't ya know there's only one of ya

You just might end up with pneumonia

And about how one might slow one's roll

To an amount down to faking control

Well I guess that would depend on it

The kind of time you want to spend on it

Now when it comes to gallows humor it's a slippery slope

You see you never ask a hangman to show you the ropes

I know you meant it as a "ha ha ha"

You just might end up with a twiney collar

And about how one goes on one's own

Saying "Hey babe, this place ain't so cold."

Well don't ya know there's only one of ya

You just might end up with pneumonia