November 22, 2009

Sunday morning with soft jazz and the sun…The sun? Shit, it is Sunday afternoon, excuse me… 12:37pm and the sun is shinning strong, turning the bleak grey deck a fuzzy silver warm and the splintered, stale, brown ammunition box into a big bar of bullion gold. Fuck. Had to work on that sentence, commas and all. The challenge of transcending my illiteracy meets me daily, I’m afraid to say…but if I was afraid to say, why did I say it? Such philosophic questions I impose on myself sometimes. Wife in the shower again. Waiting to go to a movie with our goddaughters. I have to shower next and shave and look like the sweet godfather I am. Lord knows, what a blessed man I have become. Lord knows. The Lord of all of us within, knows what is within us all. No religion please . Can I get an amen for that? Amen. A men. Ahem. And them. Anthem. Oh, man…gotta go. Wife out of the shower and my turn. Yes, in a big way, big as all the universe it is my turn every day. And bless the lord (Sunday talk) I have to take it…

So just out of the shower and scrutinizing my balding palette in the mirror

ME - “Should I shave my head again or grow my hair out? But I don’t know if there is any reason because…fuck, I hate going bald. I don’t know what to do. What should I do?”

WIFE - “What do you care? You’re older and you’re married.”

Do I know this on a daily basis? Good question. Pray to god for help again. Sunday. Yes. Monday. Of course, have to. Tueswedthrusfrisat…and into Sunday eternal. What drek. Leave it in for now…