I can be sly with
love.
I check my email a
lot. There’s good in
everyone but you’ve got to see it.
—Jack Kimball
Jackhammer exhaust in the morning better on the
outside than inside like yesterday. That was seriously
not sexual but it reminds me how presumed tops
never get a day off for emotional issues. Domination
is a tough life, I suppose.
Today’s forgotten english word of the day is callet,
“A vulgar, scolding, ill-tempered, unchaste woman;
an ancient word in common use, though perishing
from literature.” On
so many levels, too.
Otto left me the article on hip-hop’s “big gay moment”
and I read it with almond m&m’s – I’m a morning
person. I tried like
the devil to get out the door by
noon but in four minutes I will have failed.
Miserable
failure purportedly leads to all sorts of revelatory,
evolutionary, eye-popping, mind-bending...
educational happenstances.
This is maybe a
Buddhist way of thinking or even perhaps an
ascetic way of being okay with death and such.
Things like zen and(/or) yoga seem beautiful to me.
Ascetism not so much.
But let’s hope this yields some
truth. I picked up
ice skating just fine. The
first time I ever tried.
I turned it into an annual
event in my mind (later, I’m told that I shuffle
anniversary dates haphazardly). Is it a crime,
this quest for poignance?
I don’t normally head in the direction of thinking
or uttering the phrase “licking one’s wounds” ...
but that’s where I wander when I hear Coco
cleaning herself beside me, here on the couch.
Like fireworks going off in my head, I think of
Bill Berkson’s proclamation at City Lights about
his aversion to ending a poem with a bang.
