My mind is a little foggy, but the sky is cloudless, bird egg blue.
If you sit and listen as I sometimes often do, the crow’s (or raven’s, I’m not really a bird expert) kaw kaw is always present late in the day.
I spend pretty much the whole weekend in or around the pool. It is a true staycation with morning coffee by the pool, a beer and a hotdog for lunch, Oolong tea with pineapple cake in the afternoon, a vodka cocktail before dinner and then a nice glass of very cold white wine with the barbecued turkey burgers. The new fridge was turned up to 11. Froze a beer.
No shoes or shirt required back here in the land of the loungers. We just hang out between meals. The day is punctuated by mealtimes. I read George Orwell. I listen to podcasts and Spotify playlists.
If I always lived like this I’d be an alcoholic with gout and a sunburn.
The doctor called. He was looking for my daughter. I gave him her number, wondering idly what she is up to now. My daughters both have a lot of confidence, free will and innate ability.
Later I thought. That’s the only guy who has put his finger up my ass. We have a special bond. At least that’s how I feel.
There was a girl I was travelling with, Sharon, who is the only other person who has put a finger up my ass.
Later I wondered if was that her signature move and if so, how many sphincters did she digitally penetrate.
We share a short personal history of nude bathing in a Turkish bath, squat living in Amsterdam and a few other key moments of now faded importance.
And now morning again and no emails that need my attention, no forms to fill out, nothing really on my list except to get some gas and since I’ll be at Costco for that, maybe a little shopping. I need to cheese and potato chips. I need meat but steak is so expensive this year. I’ll get some little chicken wings to barbecue.
I’m not old. I’m vintage.
I live in a world of conflict.
I’m living life like an old dog, laying around here and there, staying close to home.