Lost time

To make up for lost time, here again, drink in hand. So much is so demanding of my attention. Hearing someone talking about beer at work, for instance. Instantly better than most other conversations, so I move with gravity. Beer, you say?

Reading again a novel by J.P. Donleavy, The Ginger Man, which is also inspiration. Just to write... If I could jot it all down in the time my brain allows, I'd have many more than the six or seven journal volumes present. None are actually present though, most recent scribble being at least several months old. From early days on this particular journey.

Most recent addiction, lures me on, out, back, in, farther, further, sleepy hits. It's an art, if you make it so. Getting hammered and using screwdrivers to open boxen.

Twice the strange inspiration, plus one

I decided to look up this band again. I check every so often, just because I knew two of the guys in it back in the days of high school, and I like to see how things are coming along for them. They're still going strong, with a major label now, still touring, still being goofy (to judge by the web site). That warms my heart when I go out for a scheduled smoke break in the chilly damp weather. Covered in tattoos, still doing their thing.

Then the arrival on the car port. Not for me, but some meditation cushiony things, delivered here for a friend who only has a PO Box. But hey, meditation things. I never felt a need for special cushions when I 'meditated' more frequently, but it's almost as if this guy has found religion. Not eating meat, making himself a meditation stool. It'd do me good to become a vegetarian also, but I'm biding my time and apologizing to the critters.

Then a message waiting on the machine from my first real boss, the manager of a restaurant where I worked over a year. When it closed, he went to another restaurant and soon called me to join him there. I was a good busboy, see. It's easy to serve. His call was to inform me he's finally opened up his own restaurant. We talked about it briefly when I stopped by to see him at the second restaurant last year. He's wanted to for years, I know. Finally there.

So, inspired I come only to write about what inspires, sometimes. And tomorrow, if UPS tells the truth, bagpipes!

Those will probably be scary for a while, actually, but the need was to write, and write I have. Sim suggested I blog (more). Here we are. One can't always focus on a coatrack theme, especially lacking a coatrack.

Not that I meant to bring that up here.