Christmas

            Christmas Day was the longest day of the year. I woke early and opened presents. I had my first Mimosa at 10:30 or so, and from there, a shot of moonshine and then after that, straight wine. I ate tamales for breakfast, then tamales for lunch. I ate off and on all day long until dinner, and then ate some more. My sister made a leg of lamb with mashed potatoes and salad. And of course, more wine. The wine put a strain on me. It was pulling me down from the shoulders.
            At seven o'clock or so, I went to a friend's house. It felt more like twelve. I couldn't feign an interest in the conversation. The responsibility of listening was far too arduous. I tried to be pleasant, but I didn't feel pleasant inside. I was in the midst of the longest day of the year and the wine was pulling me down by the shoulders. 

Drum Circle

            I went to the hippies' house for the Sunday drum circle. There was a small turnout. And the drummers who were there had attention deficit disorder. We'd get something going and then they'd suddenly stop. Sometimes people are fearful of exposing themselves and get self conscious. It's contagious. I didn't want to be the only weirdo drumming full tilt so I'd stop too. 
            It wasn't like last week where I was properly intoxicated and drummed to the point of bruising my forearm. I woke up the next morning to notice a huge red welt. It was very tender. My god, what have I done? I knew exactly what I had done. I had drummed myself internally bloody. Oddly, the bruise was healed up in three days. I took it as a sign of good health.

The Chewy Bits

             I made chorizo and eggs the other day. I think it was for the last time. My own cooking made me feel sick. The grease the chewy bits, the chili, it didn't sit well, not even the tortillas helped to soften the blow.
            The chewy bits. The unexplained substance in chorizo that nobody likes to talk about. I believe there is good reason for that. I've always felt that chorizo was hiding things. I've wondered about the orangey color since childhood, but never had the guts to ask why's it orange? I've known all along we mix it with eggs to mask the unspeakable, and for many years I've enjoyed the taste of the unspeakable. I'm not swearing chorizo off. I'm just taking a break, switching to Italian sausage for while, as if Italian sausage is above water. It's becoming obvious to me, short of vegetarianism, there's no escaping the chewy bits. 
         

          

Stuffed Animals

            A friend of mine told me that raccoons like to play with stuffed animals. Now I'm thinking about buying a bunch from Saint Vincent DePaul's and leaving them on my deck to see what happens. The thought of raccoons playing with stuffed animals is funny to me. Even better is the image of stuffed animals strewn throughout the yard, casualties of desire.

Socks in The Infirmary

          I was unloading my laundry from my car when a pair of socks I had bunched into a ball got away from me and rolled down the hill. It was dark and I figured I'd look for them in the morning. 

            I'd forgotten about the socks altogether until I was walking up the path to my car. It was then that I remembered they'd rolled down the hill. I gave it a quick search, but I couldn't find them. 

            It was about mid-day when I realized that I liked those socks and I wanted them back. I walked the perimeter of the yard to find them. I didn't spot them right off. It wasn't until I widened my search that I discovered them. They'd been ravaged. I found one sock near the old vegetable planter and another sock at the bottom of the hill near the fence. I gave them a once over for any signs of life. They were dusty and full of fox tails, but it was my determination that they were still good. My thoughts turned to the viciousness of the attack. Those socks didn't have a chance, but somehow they survived. Coon-rats I reasoned.  Sock stealers. 

       

Making Movies

            I have a friend, lets call him Moses, who built a movie set in his living room. He had a scene that called for a seedy motel, and rather than spending hundreds of dollars on a location, he bought
four pieces of wood paneling and cheap looking curtains to give him the look he needed for the scene. I commend his ingenuity. It's not the same as taking a Chevy truck and turning it into a fifteen foot high, cardboard carrying utility vehicle, but it's pretty close.
            Moses' wife is going along with it for now, but if there are any delays in production I can foresee serious short term consequences to their marriage. Let's hope Moses is organized and has his shot list in order. 

Dustin Hoffman

            I had a dream where I couldn't remember Dustin Hoffman's name. I could remember the movies he was in, Marathon Man, The Graduate, Little Big Man, I even remembered Kramer vs. Kramer, but for the life of me I couldn't remember Dustin's name. When I thought of his name it would come up Walter Matthau. Oh, yeah I remember... Walter Matthau, no, that's not it. It went on like that for sometime. I got it, I remember now, Walter Matthau.
            I could even remember some of Dustin's lines.
            "Well, what's your answer mule skinner?"
            "General, you go down there.."
            I remembered his creepy grin, his beady eyes, his nose, the fact that he was short, but I had wake up before I could remember his name was Dustin.