Tuesday
Slept fairly well. My rash wasn’t so insistent this morning, for which I give thanks. I’ve only got 3 stamps left, and I have to decide if I want to buy another book of stamps to keep sending postcards to the president for the rest of this month, or if I want to buy a breakfast bagel for 79 cents each morning for the rest of the month. I can’t afford to do both.
I’m leaning towards the bagel. Trump can wait until April for more postcards.
On the other hand, I intend on buying a ramekin this morning so I can start making shirred eggs for breakfast, and then I won’t need a bagel each morning. It would save money, in the long run. I guess I’ll wait and see just how good shirred eggs, with cream, are. Sarah and Brooke might come over this morning; if they do I’ll try the shirred eggs out on Sarah to see what she thinks.
The word that kept running through my head this morning as I got ready to pray was ‘sing.’ Today I don’t care if I make people laugh with my writing if I can just make my words sing -- so that’s what I prayed for. W.S. Merwin, what are you doing to me?
And since I only have $44.63 left in my checking account for the rest of the month I’ve begun praying that Adam will get some more rewrite work he can assign me -- I should NOT have bought that $5.99 ramekin or $4.99 malted milk powder this morning!
Just thought of a new joke for my imaginary stand up comedian routine:
“I prayed that the Lord would soften my heart, but he moved things up and softened my head instead.”
So here’s my first poem of the day; does it sing?
Bitcoin is in the longest slump of its 10-year history. That is forcing even its most ardent supporters to shelve dreams of global disruption and focus on simply tightening their belts long enough to outlast the downturn.
WSJ
the loss of wealth I never had
is too tragic to talk about
so I'll instead mention
the fact that God
throws money out the window
as my mother used to say
I had a friend
still have him I guess
who gifted me one Satoshi
last year
but I never knew how
to access it or
trade it in
for a book of postage stamps
which I could really use
(WSJ reporter Paul Vigna, who I tweeted this poem to, has retweeted it. That helps to validate my decision to upgrade my literary aspirations.)
************************************
Poets should take a vow of poverty, and then work like hell to break it.
The only vice I’ve never embraced is becoming a workaholic.
There’s a NYT editorial about vaquitas, homely little porpoises down in Mexico, that I want to write about. They are nearly extinct:
In recent decades, the sleek, wide-eyed vaquita porpoise has been pushed to the brink of extinction by poachers pursuing another critically endangered sea creature, the totoaba, a fish whose swim bladder sells on the Chinese black market for thousands of dollars. The porpoises end up caught in nets intended for the totoaba and killed as collateral damage.
it's been decided
in the Sea of Cortez
that the bladders of
white Caucasian males
(Homo sapiens)
make ideal aphrodisiacs
for black market Chinese
and
the lips of telemarketers
(west coast only)
will be the main ingredient
of all nutritional supplements
marketed by Amway, doTerra,
And Nu-skin
Until further notice
But wait - there’s more -
The dried earlobes of any
North American on the paleo diet
Can now be added to soups
Stews and ragouts
For an amazing and calorie free burst
Of umami
Put that in your gillnet
And smoke it
************************
Sarah and all the kids came over around 1130, straight from the dentist. And they were all eating donuts! I made shirred eggs for Sarah in my brand new ramekin -- she said she liked them, although they didn’t look like the shirred eggs on the websites I looked at for the recipe. I also made a peach cobbler, which Sarah had a big piece of. It makes me happy to see her eat a good meal.
I asked her to drop me off at the Rec Center when she left at one. Soaked in the hot tub and did a few laps, thinking all the while: Could I live like this anywhere else? Probably not. Who needs money when everything is pretty much the way I want it already?
I picked up a cardboard box on the way home to pack some canned goods in my pantry, like pears and corn, that I hardly ever use -- to put in my storage closet.
Someone is playing a trumpet outside and laughing hysterically, like the setup to a movie scene. I’m waiting for the camera to pan to see who it is. There is also what sounds like a congested saxophone. New Orleans come to Provo?
***************
I forgot to mention yesterday that I got a letter from Daisy’s mission president out in Irvine California. Looks to be a form letter, but still it’s thoughtful of him to send it out. He writes, in part, “I am happy to inform you that your daughter has been called by the Lord to serve as a Trainer of a new missionary . . . a trainer is the most important calling in the mission . . . you may be rightly pleased with her progress and contributions as a missionary.
Pres. Samuel W. Clark Jr.”
I had a few more ill-tempered and petty complaints to make about things that happened today, but after reviewing the above letter I’ve decided that posterity will not suffer if I forego my kvetching. It’s only 432 but I am done with the day. I’ve taken Tylenol for my persistent backache and had an open faced sandwich for dinner and said my prayers and washed up the dishes. There were four voicemails on my Tracfone when I got back from the Rec Center; I ignored them and turned off the phone. If I get bored watching Deep Space Nine I have a good book on Kindle to read -- all about Suleiman the Magnificent.
I wish I could sleep like a mountain and wake up like an avalanche
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