With a Cocktail Recipe and Too Many Swears

05/04/2008 6:50 AM – 7:12 AM

Okay. This. This would still feel dumb. Back. Back where you’re from. Get up then and write. Do I want to? No. Fuck this. I want to be doing something. Possibly the prom queen. Not that I had a prom. Grr. Arg. This is just what it is. It’s been cloudy the last two days. And I’ve liked it. I mentally narrated my actions in a noir voice-over. Boo-yah, motherfucker.

Up at five-thirty and read a book about happiness. Drank good coffee with lots of cream and lots of sugar. Loaded a bunch of old songs onto the lap-top and I’m listening to them now. Some are born happy. Some achieve happiness. Some have happiness thrust upon them. Now what the thing is is life and life more abundantly. They never got what that meant – the Fundies and the Vegans. A life of censorship is no life at all. A life of discretion after burning your fingers attempting to figure it out for yourself – that’ll do, piggy, that’ll do. Happiness sometimes drafts in the wings of anger, sometimes on the tips of a lecherous smile. We don’t get that it’s hard to fit happiness into the box of virtue or that a life devoid of virtue is seldom happy. That fucking middle way all over again. But that middle varies from person to person. Blow.

You wake up. You wake up and seize what there is of the day. A Sour-Mash Lemonade: 1 part bourbon, 3 parts water, lemonade mix to taste. Shake till mix is dissolved. Add ice – 1 large cube per 4 oz of liquid. Shake till ice is mostly melted. Serve in Old Fashion glass. Drink and enjoy. Repeat as necessary. Watching a Pixar movie will add to the experience. Long run today. 2.33 miles. When will I take it? Soon. I run tomorrow night as well, better to let the body heal by running this morning. Wake up. Wake up, oh soul of mine. Open your eyes to the PI walking the rainy streets, the surfer the sunny beaches. The Dude abiding over, in, through all and all. We are the matter of stars, looking back at our parents to let them know that they exist. You exist. To be here. To be the biggest sap they know – this is exuberance. We run the road up. We run it back again. Small creature, where is your God now? Where he always has been. Inherent in the proposition. I am 4. I am 12. I am 18. I am 24. I am 32. I am 64. I am. I was. I will yet be. The day is just begun. So fuck it, we’re bowling. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.