A Friday Afternoon

Roy has posted something which he says is boring, but it isn't really. The thing is, the comment function won't let me leave one, so I'll leave it here. Roy, your post was not boring. Interesting comment about Chi. I live every working day in a roiling cauldron of negative chi and only escape to generate positive chi at lunch and at 5, or so. Now I want to look at old photos of Kansas City.

Today, I didn't swim, although it was a fine, hot Noon hour and I could always use the time in the water. I went and drank/ate lunch that was mostly beer. Much of it was Moretti, a fine Italian lager. Made me want to sit at a small table outside a cafe in the Italian Tyrol and lean back with a thumb hooked inside my belt, my tyrolean feathered hat on three hairs, a pipe with a lid drooping off my lip from under the massive mustache, and a weathered crinkly gaze looking out with jaded wisdom on the passing scene. I could have occasional obscene thoughts about the young ladies, and crack wise and phony with any impressionable young hot shots that may come around asking for a guide. I would at first refuse, then after taking them down a few stripes, I would agree to show them the way up the mountain, leaving them all in exhausted wonder out how, at my age I can still do it.

OK, Friday afternoon, even a busy one such as this one, is fertile ground for fantasies of this nature. Was it such an afternoon when John Fogerty wrote "Born on the Bayou?" There ain't no bayous in El Cerrito, unless you count El Cerrito High's soccer field.

"My papa said, 'Son, don't let the Man getcha and do what he done to me!' "