Thelonious Monk and Sonny Rollins duet on “I Want to be Happy.”
So do I. Some people don’t.
Rain falls and then it doesn’t and I write in concert with jazz.
I just chopped garlic and onions for a mushroom and tomato and rice stew. Jim Harrison would approve. I need a dog here to lick the bowl.
I saw tri-colored yoga pants in the most unlikeliest of places.
A harbor seal followed me for two miles. I called out to him.
I had my hands on lavender cords and they fit, but…they were women’s pants and I couldn’t do it. I’m not there yet.
A former student called me out of the rain and it was good to hear his voice.
I found a book in a laundromat called Crazy Salad, a collection of essays about women, written by Nora Ephron. I started reading it right there. It was published in 1973 and contains more insight into women than any other book I have ever read about women.
A new river is about to emerge in my life.
I saw a man splayed on a gravel bar, flapping his arms like wings.
I met an elderly man who was pulled over for driving eight miles an hour down Highway 101. He told me he was zonked on a prescription opiod and the police arrested him.
I attended a craft fair in an unheated lodge decorated with mounted heads of deer and elk.
My Friday night entertainment this Friday night will be listening to a 2-A high school football playoff game on the radio. In mono. I’ll be tabulating all the cliches from the lone announcer. Heavy rain is forecast. Let it rain on a football field when football players are playing. Let fumbles and dropped passes commence.
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