Now this blows. I’ve got the poetry stuff coming out the a… pen right now. Okay, might as well jot the crap down and get it over with.
#1: The Scribbler
I have words aplenty
and ideas too
it’s just their ordering
which is too few.
No Beowulf from me
nor an Odyssey
I’m more inclinded
to proved few lines
and set the text free.
Wow, deep. I may just vomit. Speaking of which, let’s go at it again. No! In the name of all that is holy (like my undies), please stop!
forced by the heat
to surrender
to retreat
to the bowels
of our home.
the sun shines, blinds
and we gather
in the hole, the basement
where cool air still hides
resides below the furnace
of this new day.
why in hell didn’t I buy
a home
with a/c?
So maybe not an ode, but it’s from the heart. That’s got to count for something, right?
Not quite midnight, but it was a good swim nonetheless. It made for a refreshing break from the heat. I’m an all or none guy when it comes to the pool. No hesitant steps, wailing and whimpering at the cold. No, for me it is a leap and, depending on the degree of shrivel and retraction, perhaps a few choice expletives when I surface. Anyway, happy Declaration of Independence day, America. Only two more days until we can celebrate the adoption of the declaration as only Americans can: Lots of alcohol, barbeque, and blowing stuff up. Yay! Okay, so I’ll probably only do the second one, but a guy can dream . . .
It’s Sunday already? Damn, time flies when you waste a day in airports. NWA gave me a $35 certificate, good on future flights. What they should give me is a 6 hour certificate to get that little chunk of my life back. I won’t hold my breath. Instead, I’ll get the boy-child some breakfast so that we can spend the day at his sister’s swim meet.
Sweet lord in heaven, I’m finally home! Leave it to NWA to turn a 5 hour trip into a 12 hour wait-fest. 😛
Hey, it’s 12:30 here — I need to be up in three hours to catch my taxi to the airport. Maybe I should get some sleep, huh?
Mmmm, yummy! Dinner was brought to us (me, actually) courtesy of “Taste of Saigon”. The appetizer was a pair of crispy spring rolls. True, I like my spring rolls uncooked, but since they were served by a waitress who made me think “mmmm . . . tasty!”, they were tasty by proxy. Dinner was Tamarind Soft-Shell Crab. Definitely yummy. This was in no way influenced by the frequent visits by the yumtress. Er, waitress. In between, I pounded the Ca-Phe Suo-somethings. Yep, yummy. And finally, dessert: Mango creme brulee. Not so yummy. Interesting, yes, but not enough time has passed since the infant moved out. Any creamy pudding, slightly warm, slightly cool and much too brownish-orange is going to be associated with something other than food. Is it caramelized diaper-leavings, or is it dessert? Hell if I know.
Wouldn’t it be nice if work didn’t get in the way of life? Then an entry like this about the morning would actually be posted in the morning. Anyway . . .
It is a peaceful morning; more servers than diners in the hotel restaurant make for quick service. Something pleasant and easily forgotten by Michael McDonald plays on the radio. Outside, it is sunny and warm, with what looks like a light breeze. I haven’t actually stepped outside, so I have no idea if it is a cool breeze. Definitely not the rain and devastation I was hoping for this trip.
Breakfast is a bagel and cream cheese, fresh fruit and oatmeal perfect for hanging wallpaper. Am I the only person on the planet who believes oatmeal should still retain some of its pre-cooked shape?
Obnoxious as the sound may be at 4am, I miss waking to the sound of robins wooping. Here is is the sound of the A/C unit cycling off and on. It’s just not the same.
My High School class is having its 20-year reunion this August. I guess this makes me old. Apparently I am missing, which means I can sleep in that weekend. Speaking of sleep, it’s 12:30am here, so maybe I will try it.
David Spade and Dave Foley . . . do I need any other reasons to never grow a goatee again? I never made it to pizza with C3 — long day. Now all I want is to curl up with a good book. Or a couple episodes of Futurama. Or the Suicide Girls segment from HBO’s “Real Sex”, over and over and over and over and over. And over. I wonder if they’d like a place to stay for the summer. Still no volume on Cartoon Network, so I’ll settle for Monk.
