Sunday, September 4, 2016

Sarah "Ubers" back to NY temporarily - Poem: Cognitive Cleansing

Poached egg Sarah made for me this morning.

I awoke at 10, sniffed, didn't smell coffee, and wondered, Is Sarah awake.... or has she gone for a walk around the block.

Walked downstairs and there was my little girl in bed. Just like when she lived here.

She and Ethan decided it was cheaper to go home via Uber than taking all those trains. Sean texted and said he was waiting for her outside.

She'll attend a concert tonite where Ethan plays with a couple of other guys including Patrick Zimmerli

 I could see nuffin when I went outside with her bc of the strong sun, so scuse my odd photos. 

Take good c/o my girl, Sean.

Last nite Sarah and I wanted something fun to do.


We laffed hysterically and went.

I again drove the wheelchair, doing splendidly.

I remember my friend Rob L said that "splendid" is a word rarely used.

Here's the FB poem I wrote for today


One of the hundreds of psychiatrists
I have known told me of the value of
sleep. That big brain of ours and the
attached spinal column are vacuumed
over and over to ready us for the
new day, getting rid of excess
lint or crumbs or tiny hairs
allowing new thoughts or musical
notes or poesy to enter afresh.

Dreams are a way of cleansing.
I am with a former family doctor,
Eisenhardt, and we are rowing
out at sea, in the Hudson River
off Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey.

Oil tankers are in the distance
and the air stinks from fish and
barges when suddenly my booted
foot begans to ache. Richard,
I want to say to the doctor,
but can't remember his name,

Instead I wake, sit up, it's
only 1 am and unswath the
complicate boot, thinking Shit! Will
this foot ever heal?

Natalia from the nursing home liked it. Undoubtedly by the end of the day, it'll have a million 'likes.'

Am working on a new 500-word short story now, tentatively titled The Bump. Terribly hard to finish it as it's such a beautiful day and my upstairs office is in the shadows.

 Thanks, Donna, for the utensil holder.
Fashion boot accompanied by new pre-owned comfy culottes.

Now I was looking for the culotte story I thought I'd published but couldn't find it. I did however find this great post you can read here.  About one of my great bus trips. In 2014.

My pink water pitcher may have been inspired by Russel Wright.

The Wall Street Journal wrote a series on lobotomies. Read it here. Thanks, I will.

 The bird bath was crowded with birds but all flew away when I approached the door.

The fuchsia Crepe Myrtle got off to a slow start, due to a disease, but is in full bloom now. I did go outside to caress several of the blooms.

Like awls, they like to be acknowledged.

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