24. Three A.M. Rain

I woke up at three for a bathroom run, and I was foggily thinking: it didn’t rain and the cats must be hungry. Before I get to the kitchen, I decide to open the front door and be sure about the weather: it did rain, and it is raining even now, not hard, not a storm, more like a shower, but a decent rain nonetheless.

Sammy is there on the patio and comes inside the house right away, with a little yelping whine, as if to ask what took me so long. It will take another half an hour before Ash and Coco trickle in one by one. But I was too stimulated now and felt condemned to another sleepless night. Fortunately, at about six o’clock I did manage to fall asleep for an hour and change. That is a crucial hour: it can save one from stumbling around all day like a zombie in desperate need of brains.

The Savage God

“Death is a remedy against all evils: It is a most assured haven, never to be feared, and often to be sought: All comes to one period, whether man make an end of himselfe, or whether he endure it; whether he run before his day, or whether he expect it: whence soever it come, it is ever his owne, where ever the thread be broken, it is all there, it’s the end of the web. The voluntariest death is the fairest. Life dependeth on the will of others, death on ours.”

-- Montaigne

I thought Montaigne was a more cheery chap.

25. Mowing the Lawn

It was reasonably cool and breezy in the late afternoon, and it seemed like a good idea to knock out a mow. It was a tough job. It always is now, at my age and with the cheap mower Pop got me.

As I was pushing and forcing the little toy mower back and forth across the yard, I was thinking about my birthday remarks, about how empty a million dollars would be this late in life. However, as I am straining my muscles and sweating and getting dirty, I can better appreciate the idea of being liberated from this heavy chore. Although it would not be quite as satisfying as fucking over hot, young honeys, especially when one still had some real virility and could pack a good wallop with one’s pelvic thrusts, it would be a sweet relief nonetheless. But I am still dreaming, and I must finish mowing the back.

Daily Fun

“The Big Bull II” by Mario Moreno

( Read more... )