Morning & Day

4:35-6:06 - I wake to celebrate darkness. I pour scotch and work on poetry from the old days. I have forgotten what it means:

I try to halt the dawn
That fuels the moving world
By dreaming of the morning star
Singing a quiet sound...

6:06-10:24 - Drunk and red, I pass out in bed. I dream of trains and America before waking with a headache.

10:24-11:04 - I eat chocolate, drink coffee, and read Halldór Laxness's "Independent People" with the window open and the wind gusting. Hello November.

11:04-11:30 - I melt in the hot tub.

11:30-11:39 - I smoke a cigarette in the nude and think about the rich bitch who broke my heart. Damn it I'd give anything to forget her for a day.

11:39-1:45 - I have bagel and lox and dick around on the Internet. Utter waste of time.

1:45-3:35 - I take a walk and look at the animals. I find a dying, emaciated deer on my property. I drink some brandy and dig it a little grave. I am sorry my friend. I put on my sunglasses and shed a tear.

3:35-4:21 - I fuck about with the computer and listen to The Small Faces.

4:21-4:23 - I receive a rare phone call from an old mate named Elborne. He asks me if I would like to play piano on a track he is recording. He says it will be a slow, atmospheric blues tune with some jazz variations thrown in--right up my alley. I tell him I'm a little rough around the edges. He says that's why he asked me. I agree.

4:24-5:20 - Full of nervous excitement, I don collegiate garb and warm up the Elan. I listen to Dizzy Gallespie's "The Champ" and Bob Dylan's "Positively Fourth Street" loudly and repeatedly before trading them for the sweet purr of my engine. I have almost forgotten the bitch and the deer.