one thing today

College. I live across from semi-Black Panther Larry Davis. Rare days or nights I’d say to my housemates …   boys, I’m feeling small.   They put me in a big plaid cloth suitcase. I was bamboo thin. They left me on Larry’s porch and ran full out back to our hovel.   Larry, oh I forgot -   he was tripping. He opened his door, stared down at the suitcase, upzipped it. I knelt facing him, stretched my arms way out and flexed my fingers.   dadda, dadda I impeached.  

Cookie Mueller lived a couple of blocks away from me in the late 70s/early 80s.  She was an actress - in a lot of John Waters movies  and downtown hardly plays, a skilled writer, drug dealer, a fashion icon in her fashion.  She once bolted from a hotel bill in Berlin and tried to climb a wall, not knowing that it was THEE wall with nothing but communism on the other side. One time she and a girlfriend rented a car that stalled on a train track and its roof was dented big time by the cross guards. They weren't charged for the damage because when they returned the car they dealt with a dwarf.  

  Words are the clothes thoughts wear.  Samuel Beckett

Sunday afternoon river walk. Light on water dancing like inside Tiffanys. Out the side of my eye - mistook a stroller for a Doberman Pincher. Saw Andrew Shue from the old soap  Melrose Place . He's short. Two giant geese stood next to a park benched couple and I was tempted to inquire … they’re adorable, how old are they? Young folks are reading real books … maybe they’re coming back like LPs. Sundays are well not always but sometimes bittersweet lonesome almost, more sweet remembrance of peeps past. Peeps who once had a purpose and something to do tomorrow. Be here now, Buster Crabby.

  Oh, I got a message from below 'Twas from a man I used to know About a year or so ago, before he departed He is just as happy as can be I'll tell you what he said to me He said, "If ever you get heavy-hearted Pack up your sins and go to the devil in Hades You'll meet the finest of gentlemen and the finest of ladies They'd rather be down below than up above Hades is full of thousands of Joneses and Browns O'Hoolihans, Cohens, and Bradys You'll hear a heavenly tune that went to the devil Because the jazz bands they started pickin' it Then put a trick in it, a jazzy kick in it They've got a couple of old reformers in heaven Making them go to bed at eleven Pack up your sins and go to the Devil And you'll never have to go to bed at all If you care to dwell where the weather is hot H-E-double-L is a wonderful spot If you need a rest and you're all out of sorts Hades is the best of the winter resorts Paradise doesn't compare: all the nice peo...

  Was a slow night. I spent some of it pondering who knocked me around the most in the romance ring. It's never been much of a contest. Two minutes after I dwell in a place of easy wonder, the contest winner phones me from thousands of miles away. This has not been a frequent occurrence -   maybe a half dozen times over twice as many years.  I  wonder what’s to be gleaned by the timing, how much is coincidence, how much is not, something else. It’s hard to tell, hard to believe, hard to acquire certainty. I just read in a history of the earliest Hollywood studios they all agreed on one thing. Sex is theft.  

  Spotting the first daffodils today ... I thought of my mom's favorite poem or maybe her second favorite. She really liked  The House with Nobody in It.   This one is Daffodils .  I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the d...