31.8.04

quinoa in slightly spicy sauce

rolling out of bed
with a silent kind of groan
don't want to wake them

5:15 a.m., Liza and Sammy sleeping in the big old bed, he comes in every morning in the middle of the night, they're both in their little worlds, chilly because the windows are open, turn on the shower real hot, piss, strip, jump in the shower, shower, dry, shave, select clothes, don underwear and pants, downstairs, get out irony board and iron, iron, put on shirt, put on socks, eat weird organic cereal with a banana chopped into it with soy milk, drink juice, upstairs to brush teeth, locate keys and wallet, select CDs for the day, gone, 6:00 a.m.

air whipping my hair
conducting early traffic
with my thought patterns

6:00 a.m. Aaaaah. Mory Kante whipping some lovely African acoustic pop into my ears, dig that balafon. No one on the streets really until I hit University, then there's a little buzz, a little bustle, people trying to merge. Nowhere near as crazy as it'll be in an hour, in two hours. Traffic's all messed up down here since they took Highway M down to two lanes so now no one can go over the lake, we're all shoehorned in. Man I love Highway M in the morning, that job's interminable, everything is, here. But me and Mory, we're tight like that, he sings something I don't know but I'm loving him all the way. 6:27 a.m.

pulling into work
first car in the parking lot
TAKE THAT YOU SUCKAZ

6:29 a.m. I love being the first one in. It used to be better when I drank coffee, nothing's like a solitary pot, probably go back to that soon. But it's awesome man, no need of headphones to crank up Banda el Recodo, no one to hear me if I burp once daintily, just me and this old-ass I-Mac and some stories to write. I still have to finish Country of the Week, done by 8:00 aw yeah. Whip through Campaign Ads, done by 2:00 boo-ya. Faces & Places, 3:15 blammo. Start on Darfur, get almost a whole frame done by 5:15. Only J. and J. are still here with me but I beat them both out the door, jump to the car, pop in Skye Sweetnam's disc that I got last night from Tommy, it rocks like igneous, head home through horrific traffic, home to the family. I am a working man.

walk right in the door
someone's crying, someone smiles,
someone hugs me tight

5 comments:

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