Black coffee in espresso cup resting on saucer atop secondhand book purchased for 25¢. In bed I continue reading Allen Ginsberg’s Planet News. Morning outside: the sun struggles against the clouds. Reminded of Whitman while reading. Reminded of proclamations, with Ginsberg’s text stretching from end to end on page after page. Reminded of Ferlinghetti, with text drizzling downward in thin stacks.
I love the word “strata.” Powerful considering its compactness and all it implies.
I dislike “tethered” because it is contrived. Who do you know who can say it without reprisal?
An age cutoff should apply for the slang “any-who.” Adults who use it should be embarrassed. It is cute only if you are 9.
I hear a phone that is not answered. I listen for some time. The ringtone trails off and seems to leave an echo in my brain.
Where is the owner of the phone. Is he/she still alive. Has something gone wrong or are they merely indisposed.
This might be an important call…
- it’s your boss
- it’s your angry spouse
- it’s your worried mother
- it’s debt collections
- it’s your broke friend
Who calls rather than texts anyhow.
I linger for some time to see how it plays out. Like looking at an empty, banged-up vehicle. Resting by a lamppost after a crash.
Almost anyone with hiccups will sound cute. Just like almost anyone with a cold — when they speak, that is.
I like the way people’s voices sound when they just wake up. Sort of scratchy yet soothing.
Maybe people sound better or come across as more winsome when their defenses are down.
I like drowsing as a word:
Although I did not eat turkey, I spent today drowsing on the couch because it was cold and raining out and everything was shuttered.
Speaking of which, I think drudgerous would be a useful word to add to the English language: (Scooping my cat’s litter can be drudgerous.)
In other news, The New Yorker magazine is like an old flame: Every once in a while, we get back together. Meaning, I recently subscribed again. In lieu of flowers, I am expecting a free tote.
I am currently listening to Philip Glass. His glum composition Opening is playing as I type this. You will recall this piece if you’ve ever seen the 1982 film Koyaanisqatsi. Opening reminds me of a rainy night in New York City.
It also brings to mind the smell of the NYC subway. Not so much urniation or whatever else but just the dank odor of the underground combined with diesel.
I suppose today has been all in all quite melancholy (a very Dickens type of word).
Holding my breath until the weekend. Some weeks feel like ascending Everest—with its peak being my two days off, of course.
Everest even contains the word “rest,” as well as “ever,” which to me means perpetual leisure and not death. Imagine having leisure forever.
This would not be like something enjoyed by a vampire, for even they have to work after sundown, seeking victim after victim to feed upon. Though Lugosi made it look effortless and then just crawled into his coffin while others in his part of the world were just waking up.
I was at my favorite neighborhood park when suddenly a throng of zombies began advancing toward me, staring at their cellphones.
This was not your average distracted crowd. These were participants in a park-wide Pokemon Go event. Pokemon Go is a GPS-enabled augmented reality game you play with your mobile device.
Sometimes I pass judgement (see title of this post), but if games such as Pokemon Go is what it takes to get people out and around nature, then I guess it’s not such a bad thing.
I’ve pinned a button onto my jacket that denotes me as soluble. Pure and simple. It’s a blue button with white text.
- I’ve a high potential for condensation. I feel I could dissolve like salt in warm water.
- In an argument, I can disintegrate into clumps like acrylic in an acetone bath.
- Don’t ever wet me or expose me to sudden cold. I need to acclimate to avoid eventual evaporation.
- When I think of soluble, I recall the Wicked Witch of the West withering. I think of candle wax burning.
- If I had it my way, I would rather not leave this Earth in water form. I would prefer to splatter into fiery sparks.
- Or else become a genie fog that curls into a porcelain lamp like a plume of vape smoke traveling back inside your mouth.
- Or drift past the Milky Way into the starry spray of the multiverse.
He sat amid a sea of empty cafe tables and chairs — a lone island in perhaps the Pacific.
The shirt he wore bore illustrations of small sharks — a throng of them speckling the deep.
He himself wore a mohawk.
He had just demolished a slice of pizza: The flattened box sat lifeless on his table.
Hunched in his chair, he now cruised social media on his cellphone.