With a string of uncolored holiday lights I made a celestial body circled around a teddy bear on my night table, in the darkness the play by play announcer at low volume keeping calm. This is the room with the bookshelves reaching up to the cathedral ceiling (sounds magnificent but it’s very plain) where I spend most of my time, adjacent to the kitchen, where I sleep and write and let my thoughts sift through the walls. One large window to let the eastern light in. Aroma of coffee beans roasting and percolating. The same room where I often read or have company and do readings, the room where I have cried over losses and despaired over broken ends, the room with the white walls and the Van Gogh print in which I often see things that aren’t there, the same room where I try and play guitar. I got a moment to myself with the lights so bright and warming, little stars I borrowed from the sky, kittens asleep on the blanket on the bed. Thank you sky, thank you home, thank you pretty peaceful life in a chaotic world.
I would be happy to live out my days as a recluse. I think it would be pretty fun. I could do all sorts of scientific experiments. Study up on Thoreau. I’m only gonna have one food group a day. I will start with starches, mashed potatoes, and then move to tomatoes, and if there are leftover tomatoes I will find a skunk and spray another animal so I can use them for a tomato bath. Then they will owe me a wonderful debt of gratitude. The animals will become my little helpers. If there are leftover potatoes I will post them for a lookout, take advantage of all those eyes. I hate how they look at me before I beat them with the masher. When I am filled with guilt I can sit by the stagnant pond and write a treatise on human nature. Find a swell theory to overcome my remorse. You are not what you do, your actions do not define you. Oh! If I can realize one of my shelved dreams and colonize the famous lac bug, I will study and write a book about proper usage of shellaq for dyeing winter wools for sweaters. I will call it Shellacrilage. Hopefully my animals will be agreeable to lending their winter coats for testing dyes, though it might confuse the foxes when the badgers all turn red.
I like to be alone
it is no perversion
solitude makes me