Remember to write note to self:
Man with gnarled hands should forgo button-fly jeans.
Flavored coffee on weekends. Vanilla Nut.
Sounds like a great band name.
Anybody else notice the talking heads on cable news channels look like kids you went to school with?
I think
I think
Beginning to get some sense of my biggest problem.
Getting old and that feels like a surprise!!!
Shocking even.
I start my day every day with a strong cup of Joe and my vibrating heating pad on my stiff back.
Remember leaving my first wedding. And a kid calls out, as my bride and I burst into the sun a spotlight on just the two of us.
We part the crowd - rice in the air - this kid calls out "Mom! He looks just like Joe Namath!!!"
When I was young with huge dark sideburns.
Walk the dogs.
Walk the wife, too.
Bring them all home safely, then hammer six solo miles. "Hammering" so slow these old years.
Make brunch.
Heat frozen blueberry pancakes and frozen pork sausages.
Almost as good as sex for my wife.
She can just sit there and be served like a goddess while she watches
"Say Yes To The Dress."
from her recliner, swaddled in her snuggly brightly-colored Tropical Bird comforter.
Laundry started.
Wife napping.
And snoring.
Dogs, too.
Smoking my pipe, a blend redolent of a double bacon maple bar from Voodoo Doughnuts.
Cranberry Juice & Diet Tonic.
Television on, watching Coach K chase thousands of victory. A pin on each dark lapel. Seems insecure.
I want to get my M.F.A. Want to start a tavern/book store. Write another half dozen respected books.
Stay sexy.
I think
I think.
Might have four personalities.
Good, Bad, Public, True.
Two more than long suspected.
The Good You might want to come out but he can't be here now.
Can I?
Ernie Banks died. Bought his first glove for $2.98.
Sports Authority has gloves on sale for three hundred bucks.
My first glove was orange plastic first base mitt Dad got from the trash man.
Bingeing on Boardwalk Empire.
Blaise Pascal said, "All of man's troubles stem from his inability to sit quietly in a room alone."
With himself.
Some sinister black man in a sharp outfit: "a thing mixed is a thing weakened."
Reminded me of an old girlfriend. A whore in the kitchen, a cook in the bedroom.
Which reminded me of my second wife. The real crazy one. I couldn't hit her and she wouldn't shut up cause an ex-girlfriend had called out of the blue after a dozen years.
She called me, mind you. she called ME
My second wife yells at me on the lanai for hours.
Hours.
Not making this up. You can think I am making this up if it will help you still like me.
Threw the woman into our pool.
Should have seen the little angel fly.
Don't look at me like that.
She could swim.
And she finally shut the fuck up.
Look at the time!!
Getting late. 9 p.m.
Head for the hot tub.
Better the book on bedside table, the later I go to sleep.
Amen.