I write this through hazy eyes and the tunes of 90s reggaeton thumping through the early morning hours. The sun hasn’t even risen and my cat is already picking fights with the others. Vying for a chance to go outside in the less-cold-than-lately-but-still-too-cold weather. It’s supposed to rain today. Maybe even flood. Isn’t that something? I’m still rubbing my eyes hoping to notion them into a steady, wakefulness and the creative juices just keep flowing. Instead, I’m shaking my ass in my chair. I chose the auditory method of hyping one’s self instead of coffee.
Planned coffee never suits the preparation of morning coffee. How am I supposed to not resist a cup or two or three, then I drink a cup or two or three amongst company. How does one wake up from that? Now I’ve drank a pot and god forbid the after-dinner coffee comes for me; a cup or two or three.
So nicotine, reggaeton, and drinking water to soothe my soul.
I’ve done it again.
B(wh)oredom.
This too is a jokey-joke.
I’m relishing in the fact that sharing aspects of my life (because every writer has a squeaky clean life) has gained interest to me. The things I enjoy the most. I can prose debauchery into sounding cool, but the genuine appreciation of telling it straight never goes out of style.
Now I’m in a mixed martial arts campaign that my cat that has waged against me. Tearing up and scratching whatever he wants with his demon claws. He sat on my Ginsberg book for fuck’s sake. Testing my reflexes to catch my hand or commit property damage against his Mother. He’s paid too much attention during my tai chi sessions.
A song about this dream girl whateva whateva is playing. New age and catchy. Sometimes I let myself slip into cheap commercialism. I like them flashy outfits and interesting shades. Good drums. I hear that bass and 808s and I can slip on by and diffuse into some sort of beat monkey. Different keys, different art forms and they all correlate for me.
Maybe I should start making music again.
None of that classical shit anymore, but I do love a sample and a chord.
A musician and a writer.
My flaws nourished through art.
I’m pretty okay with that.
To avoiding over-caffeination, shitty tunes, and nicotine withdrawals.
I already got a base.
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