23 August 2006
I am a morning guy. I set my alarm each night before bed but arise most often ten or fifteen minutes before the radio voices yell at me when it is time to get up. This morning I hit the snooze a couple of times however. I lay their savouring the yuck of my morning mouth. It tasted like a politician's speech.
Then I got up and turned on some coffee and turned on the kitchen radio. A lot of people turn on the tv in the morning. Fuck your television right up the ass. I like the radio in the morning. As my coffee bubbled the first traffic report of the day was shouted into the fragrant blue mist of the Dope City morning from a helicopter. Some motherfucker had flipped their car on my route to work. I had to rush together my lunch and a couple cups of coffee and head myself to an alternate, slower route to the Hell of Work.
Along the way I got to honk my horn at the sleeping cows and horses already grazing with fly guards over their faces. The radio dicks were joking about The Partridge Family because David Cassidy had played the Dope City Fair the previous evening. The Partridge Family were ok. I have wanted to do a few lines with Danny Bonaduce and drink him under the table in the company of a couple transgender whores for years.