Happy postmortem birthday to Miles Davis and John Wayne.
I have an appointment for a casual breakfast an hour away so there are only fifteen more minutes to complete this post before I must be going.
He wanted to meet at ten, a far more sensible time.
The reception dinner at my wedding played Sketches of Spain, to this day my favorite jazz album although once involved in marriage you begin to understand Bitches Brew quite well.
one thing has nothing to do with the other.
Hemingway wrote a book with short sentences, I long to write one with long sentences and short paragraphs about a fish fighting for it’s life in the sea only to be caught by some old bastard who shoots himself eventually.
it will not be autobiographical.
My thesaurus doesn’t have an entry for masturbation which was never really needed but interesting to look up (found the info on the net).
I’m considering not getting an omelet for breakfast, but french toast instead.
last year I would have just gotten both but I’m older now.
maybe I’ll just get both despite my advancing years.
POEM
uncom
mon
inciden
t.
noting
move
ment a
nd colour
my
eyes
watchi
ng
when
there’
s nothin
g to
see,
but s
hade i
nto
shade
creati
ng f
orm.
so I
driv
e on
knowin
g ther
e’s
nothi
ng t
o see.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 