I use to love the song, about waking up on a Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head up – having a beer for breakfast and dessert. Not having any clean clothes and stumbling through the day. I related.
Sunday’s were bad. It took me years to surrender to a Sunday. The sidewalks roll up. The only drug deals on a Sunday are a rip off. Such as, puchasing a twenty dollar piece of soap. Continue reading “Sunday Morning”
As a child, whenever my father was unhappy with me, and I would try to explain myself, he would ferociously say that there were no excuses.
I believe there are excuses. Continue reading “Life”
I am creating my personal retreat.
When you have bad habits, you do something to create a change.
It can be done.
The clash is the cost of the comfort.
I wake up. I thank God for a new day. I place my stainless steel kettle, on my cast iron, double burner, preparing water for tea. My kitchen window is a frame for a hibiscus hedge. They create a view of lush green leaves and red flowers. It could be worse. It’s no longer the meadow, where I watched horses and foal wander aimlessly, grazing. They were pieces, of my picturesque puzzle, of Costa Rica. From the pioneer days. A time when no one wanted to be in Potrero. They called our pueblo, the Bronx. Some, simply have no vision. Continue reading “Culture Crack Up/Comfort”
It’s the morning. I have to get up and get my tea.
I have already spent to much time on Facebook. I don’t understand why I even bother. It gives me a boring home feed. Maybe, that’s because I have my age listed as 105. That’s as old as they will allow. It’s none of their business how old I am.
I will be off to Crossfit. I wouldn’t miss it.
Then I take a trip to San Jose. Or at least, that’s what it says on my calendar.
What day is it?
Having just watched a fifty three minutes episode about the brain of Einstein, I am in a time warp. Space moves around mass, distorting acceleration. The universe is expanding. And I’m just laying around in my bathrobe watching my smart TV.
I did my Crossfit Class at six o’clock. I quickly, donkey kicked myself into a handstand.
I went and surfed. I took my time and waited for the waves to slow down.
Now I know that the universe is responding to my movement. I thought it was the other way around.
Time stands still while you surf, and then it takes an hour to drive home.
A second movie which lasted seventy four minutes was about magic and miracles. It was all done in a timely manner by a man that talked rapidly.
I heard myself repeating his words in slow motion, not simultaneously.
I could feel the hands of time and the waves of motion.
My bathrobe is aging at a separate time from myself, as viewed by my Smart TV.
They are light years apart.
And my grandmother, watched the Edge of Night, as The World Turned.
Time after time.
PHRASES – bore someone to death (or to tears) weary (a person) in the extreme.
- I could tell you what it’s like to be my age.
- I could reminisce about my family.
- I could talk about surfing, in Costa Rica.
- I could fill you in on my latest dreams.
- I could share with you about my low body fat percentage, and how I did it.
- I could tell you about my tabata and Crossfit work out.
- I could complain about the crazy gringos and how they need to slow down!
- I could write about the beaches, in Florida, further being destroyed by the “nature” of greed.
- I could give you some insight into Celtic music.
- I could enlighten you on the need to, and art of meditation.
But instead, I will continue, to watch Netflix.
It seems like the right thing to do.