Smoking and drinking coffee
smoking and drinking coffee
smokinganddrinkingcoffee
punctuated by small naps
accidentally taken on the couch.
December 31, 2013
New Years Eve
I do not make resolutions specifically for this date – I make them when I need to have made them. I made my last new years resolution many years ago stating that I would never again make another new years resolution and so far I haven’t. In the past several months I’ve made a few decisions that I am carrying through with into the new year but this is not the same thing. I’ve taken up playing the trumpet and am sticking with it with lessons and everything and I’ve quit smoking to be a better trumpet player (more lung capacity; better breath).
I like to beat dead horses.
There are many things I don’t need – a specified day to start something new is one of those things I don’t need.
But onto another subject.
I haven’t written in months and last night wrote a few lines of poetry – for my wife, always for my wife…
I love you
and that may be all
shared coffee over old television shows
and newer series watched in minute marathons
It needs more and I will write more for it but for now it is there waiting and I take the medications carefully every night and every morning. I build catapults with my son and watch him build with Legos.
and I sing the song of my people.
February 25, 2013
poem
god, or somebody,
bless
him
I take the doctors pink and white pills
and the blue/green one
with water before bed and
again when I wake up
everyday
and, supposedly,
they keep me sane and stable.
it’s not pleasant to die on the cross
or in back alleys and one way streets.
when I’m sick I swallow vitamins
and drink a lot of orange juice.
it helps.
and my hair doesn’t fall out
any faster then the approaching middle age.
I do not have cancer
though I smoke a pack a day.
It’s not charming to be awoken after dying
without permissions from the dead.
yesterday I spent an
inordinate amount of time in bed
for no reason
and had a lot of dreams,
none of which I remember now.
life, is boring – Henry says
and friends, I believe him
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 