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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orchids

Groaners in the house

I don't know how it is at your gym, but at mine, from the Department of Minor Annoyances, come the groaners. These folks can be divided into two types: muscle-bound meat-heads in the weight room who feel the need to make loud noises so you'll understand how much hard work they're putting in, lifting or pressing five times what you ever could anyway; and people who, in the otherwise silent stretching room, make "ahhh" and "oy" kinds of sounds as they change position, or even as they just lie there lengthening their muscles. Of the first type, there were admittedly many more at my old gym, Testosterone Plaza, where actual competitive body-builders trained. Of the second type, thre are more at the Y, where I work out now. To the first: I know I'm supposed to be impressed but I think you're just silly. To the second: this may not be what you want to hear, but you remind me of my Grandpa getting up from a chair.


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