Salacious Details

Hung over. Dinner, drinking and laughs, pay the piper. Nice shrimp fried rice. Extracted broth from the shells and made a nice clam chowder for dinner tonight. Bags of extra oyster crackers at the museum and I finally took one, because I sensed the beginning of soup season, and they were perfect; with Wilted Lettuce, what my Mom calls it, just make a regular salad, whatever suits your fancy, and as a dressing use hot bacon fat. This is very good. Young spinach is particularly fine this way. Finally some color, and the leaves are falling, and the acorns; it's kind of noisy, actually, but a lovely distraction. Rerereading parts of "Song Of The Dodo" because I hadn't put it away and it was at hand when I plopped down on the sofa, arm across my eyes against the morning light. This is the way we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, so early in the morning. Read a chapter or an essay, take an Advil, maybe two. Loren left a bud, mid-afternoon I break it apart, smoke a bowl, watch golf and then Nascar for a few minutes, wondering whether I should get satellite, so that I might have greater choice. Not a good idea, I'd watch the Food Channel all the time. I think we're all addictive, whatever turns your crank, and there is something for everyone, out there, somewhere. Zeno, consider the lilies of the field, the crows, the fox; Brandy asked me, I couldn't duck the question, I told her, and I believe this to be the truth, that we are entering the fox season, I'll see her now, because she wants that to happen, or it to happen, whatever, whichever. Two emus go into a bar. One of them is cuddling a hairless Mexican dog. The other asks for two martinis, shaken, not stirred: which one is the alpha male? You see what I mean?