I woke up today at 6:30 a.m., wide-the-fuck-awake. Stared through the blinds out the window at the trees weaving to and fro in the breeze for a while. Lilly came into the room when I called her, jumped up onto the bed with a meeowwe, and flopped down next to me, little furry kitty booty butted up against my thigh, natch. Soaked in the sun as I petted her, and realized my baby was actually purring. In the three (?) years we've been together, she's only purred maybe twice, and just a hardly noticeable murmur. But today, she's got a full-on motor running, and she needs to blow her nose: a little snore sound at the end of each purr.
After a few minutes of this, she's done and hops off the bed and heads to the living room. I follow, check some emails and such, then plop on the couch for a masochistic game of soccer. I played West Ham, in honor of my friend (I think that's who he follows), against Crystal Palace because I used to drink Crystal Palace Gin (long ago before the discovery of lovely vodka). West Ham 1 to Crystal Palace's 2...I am a Mingy Wanker!
Then, promptly dozed off on the too small couch half listening to a couple of PBS literary shows...half dreams of Montaigne, the art of the short story, and Ezra Pound stream through my consciousness.
To work till close. Nothing really memorable. I felt quiet and crabby throughout the evening. Mind wandered to other things, work feels like an intrusion interfering with "other things," things not yet discovered, but when they are, I shall feel whole again.
Back home, I experiment with a different whiskey. Normally I stick to my old reliables Jack Daniels or (my sentimentally flavored) Wild Turkey 101, but probably under the influence of this gentleman's prose, I decided to partake of a sampling of Jameson Irish Whiskey. A couple of two-finger rocks glass (with 3 cubes, of course) later, I've determined that it is a respectable and tasty version of the amber liquid. A "thinner" taste, but enjoyable. I tend to like stronger, fuller tastes (longer steeped tea, stronger black coffee, a thickly enhanced fruit drink, etc.), but definitely would reach for a Jameson again.
I fell asleep listening to the Demons in my mind whisper and creep around, their wraith-like robes stirring up tiny dust whorls of neverending sadness past. The whiskey muting them slightly and the Charlie Parker/ Miles Davis Cool Blues tape playing in the background drowned them out sufficiently for me to drift off into slumber's arms. Lilly breathes slowly and deeply next to me. And the breeze through the open window kisses my cheek lightly like a lover saying good-bye under the cover of night.