Took me some time to get moving today. I get slower and slower with each passing day. I sat on the couch and read part of a cook book Sonja brought home. Sonja brings home cook books and marks the recipes she wants me to make. She writes on the pages too. "This looks yummy!" I bring home sex books and do the same thing. "You better do some stretching!"
I put Lou Reed's recent New York performance of Berlin on the stereo and mixed up some banana chocolate chip muffins. They are cooking right now. The sound of the rain, the smell of the muffins, the caffeine in my coffee and the sound of Lou's band makes me feel good deep inside where my beer goes.
Sonja got up and fed the Hammer. She told me, "Those smell yummy!"
Yesterday I had just fed the Hammer her dinner when Sonja came home from work. My dog sped up her eating so she could greet her mama at the door.
We do not need much. Something to eat. Freedom. A couple cases of beer on the weekend.
3 comments:
Reminds me of a poem I wrote a long time ago. I've lost the original but I remember a couple of lines.
"We didn't want much
We couldn't get that"
Then again, that might be Bukowski.
PS, I'm in no fuckin' hurry lately either. It's alright. In fact I like it.
Me too. I used to like the pace of Neil Young's "Needle and the Damage Done" because the pace was at odds with my own. Now it's like, "Jesus Fuck Neil, slow down a little."
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