Pictured above: Slick Richard dining al fresco at webmeister’s haus. He literally takes his dinner lying down. The lumps extending from his midsection are the toes at the end of his hind legs. Is there a Republican faithful Honey & Quinine reader who has never wished he or she could adopt a similar posture to feast on a big ol’ bowl of pork rinds? Be honest! I know you’re out there. I can hear you breeding!
I was late to sleep Friday night for reasons having zilch to do with alcohol, drugs, or writing fan mail to #43, but when I finally did to bed, I was sawing logs, figuratively speaking, by the time my head hit the pillow. All I could think of when I awoke about five hours later was that I had to get out of bed, not because I was ill or had some place to be, but because I had such a fripping hellovalot to do.
To the office, head simmering in a fog of guilt for the hours I waste, usually about every weekend, just letting off “steam” so to speak, telling myself I’m not a boy soprano despite evidence suggesting that based solely on my love life; feeling a gnawing pain, like a pulled muscle but mental and a sense of consuming weight down to my fingertips; wanting to return to bed because I still feel tired, but not daring, sure as hell not at 9:15 in the morning. Thinking myself through the individual catching up on neglected tasks because I am determined not to surrender my consciousness to failure today, not before I’ve accmplished something!
To Ace Hardware to get new collars for Slick Richard and Thelonius Dog so I can leash them and anchor them when the cable guy returns to lay cable for the esteemed upstairs renter. Do I have the dollars in my checking account for this? I will know if the cashier’s little machine rejects the check. Bingo! No rejection, and I return lighter in my account by $11.39. victory!
Then the fun begins.
The collars are too long. The little stop about an inch too big, so after half an hour of drilling (with model workshop tools) holes so they will fit, the reason for my futility becomes obvious and I look for a wire hangar with a tip I can heat on my stove so I can MELT a hole through the collars. It is a chore that takes another 20 minutes and leaves me sweating as though I had just jogged around the block! The collars FIT! victory!
It’s time for converting the front room and living room back to winter mode. With considerable effort I relocate my bed from the living room, where the ceiling fan is, to the front room (parlor in yesteryear’s parlance) where a ceiling fan isn’t. This allows me to bring the sofa back into the living room. I had a rough summer and no “sit down and chat” company anyway, so the rearranging to sleep with the ceiling fan on in a room with no air conditioning inconvenienced no one. victory!
I napped almost two hours in the afternoon after enjoying lunch of two PB&J sandwiches. Weekend will be two meal days, my reward for Ramen noodles each night I’m home. I can eat Ramen noodles every fripping dinner as long as there are cookies or peanut butter, jelly, margarine and bread in the joint. Actually 80 percent of my sense of well-being comes from ample reserves of Folger’s instant and Lipton instant iced tea mix. At least I’ll never suffer the indignity of muddling through with only water in a glass, but if I do, you can be sure there will be ice cubes there too. Dignity is where you make dignity; not where you find it. Obvious from the moment my socks hit the carpet after the snooze: my nagging pain/fatique was gone, and I was at one with my world again. victory!
Finished, in the interim sense of the term, my memorial gallery of pictures of Springfield native son Mark Foutch. Visit www.aeroknow.com/Foutch.htm to see what it’s all about. victory!
After returning to the office after Cops and staying here until I heard voices from “DaVinci’s Inquest” on the TV in mon living room (a terrific episode as always) I returned to the office for the final time Saturday and stayed with productive keyboard action until about 3:00 a.m. victory!
Today after the Sunday paper (Opus and Doonesbury are KEEPERS this week) and during Meet the Press and This Week with George the Greek, I sorted clippings that have been piling up in a visible nook in my living room which is no longer a place for piles of clippings. Am dividing them into politics, arts & entertainment, Vachel Lindsay and poetry worth keeping. Most of this is “gee whiz” joyful or incredibly evocative material that I would leap to share — especially the poetry. victory!
I can feel myself becoming less and less the poet and more and more the appreciator of poetry. It bothers the beJEEbers out of me! I let someone take the
“poet in me” away from me, and believe me when I say I truly hate the bastard for it! On the other hand, I’m the one who’s letting go.
Live long . . . . and proper.
