A routine he’s revived recently which I LOVE.
A scrubdown shortly after he walks into my
office and flips his lid. All these umbrellas &
no twist? So point is I was very happy this
morning. Which has nothing to do with
death or dying, right? Turn the page and
this is it? So I go back to the old dreams,
the ones I can remember. There are so
few of them. In one, here I am. In
another, he’s already and finally
apologized. I am envisioning
he is a monster. I like monster
in several of its constructs. But
not in the movie The Hangover Part II.
While vacationing in Hong Kong
and Tokyo (two weeks apiece,
a little over a year apart), whenever I’d
mention I was vacationing (and a whole
two weeks?!) the response would in-
evitably be: So why are you vacationing
here? Why aren’t you in Thailand?
Next year I won’t remember any of this.
So I rename it Flying By the Seat
of My Pants. Which I LOVE.
