Pretty Good Day

My chin is flaky.

My whole entire face peels in the cold. I look leprous. I feel tired as I rise in the morning at 4:30. Yeah, that's right, 4:30 in the morning. The sun is not even up at that time. I rise because to go back to sleep will only cause me to oversleep and miss my doctor's appointment today at 9:00am. That would be bad. I haven't seen him in a few weeks now, and I need my regular checkups. They are not long, but they are essential. I make coffee.

I get online. I love to see my laptop boot up in the morning. It has awesome blue lights that glow when on. While I wait, I do my morning exercise. I know I was cranking and complaining earlier about not getting powerful and feeling better doing them, but today I did. I felt quite capable and less tired. Even the side bridge wasn't all that hard. My core is getting stronger.

Well, whatever. I get ready and get out. Stepping into the elevator and heading downstairs and out of the building. I get to my doctor's office in record time, ready to sit outside his office until he comes in, but only to find that he is in already. I sit in the waiting room for him to get settled in. He shortly calls me into his examination room.

"So how are you?" he asks. I've never felt better doc. I'm flying high. "Really. Let's check your blood pressure." We check it and its high. That's because I've run out of ATENOLOL. But as we check it a second and third time, if falls drastically. Something that he calls: 'White Coat Hypertension'. Blood pressure tends to rise when people walk into a doctor's office. "How's the gout?" He asks. Great. All gone, Doc. Once again, you did a smash up job. Everything checks out. I'm doing fine for a change. Could you weigh me, Doc? "Yeah, lets do that."

234.6 a loss of about eight pounds.

I smile. That's not bad. Not bad at all. And although I feel it in my clothes, I don't feel hungry. This diet is indeed sustainable. This is good. I should be on track to my goal of under 200 lbs by summer. We talk, which is what I like the most about visiting the Doc. We get a chance to talk. He is a wonderful conversationalist, that's probably why he's such a good doctor. What do they call it? Bedside manner?

I soon split and head back home. It is a nice day. In the early morning it was cold, but now it was downright warm. It was a great feeling. I thought about walking around with my new camera in my pocket, but the stay-at-home sickness kicked in and all I wanted was to be was back in my room, in front of my laptop, surfing the web. Shit! What the fuck is wrong with me?? I'm being invited to engagements and the whatnot, and all I want to do is stay home. I wonder this as I ride the Way back.

I stare off at nothing. I should be in strung out shape by now. I have the SHOUT OUT to do by myself tomorrow. Jay Chollick, a premier poet, is coming to read, and he's a crowd bringer. This should be a record crowd and I have it to set up, do, and to break apart all on my own. A one man show. We'll see how the fuck I do. I can only crash and burn. Maybe someone in the audience will come up and dust my ashes off the stage and take over. Steal my laptop when done too.

Fuck that. I'm gonna rock this town tomorrow. I'm not going to even think about it. It's not like it's the first SHOUT OUT that I've ever hosted. I'll bang it out. Call it a day, or it'll finish me one.

I got home too tired to do shit. I made my way to the bed and crashed like a fallen oak. I slept like the fucking dead until three O'clock. I know because the churchbell woke with me. I am again, alone in my room, it's cool four walls enclosing me like a loving hold. I am comfortable here in a space no bigger than a jail cell. But when you've had the wide open expanses as you home for so long, these four walls are a creature comfort.

I think I'm going to chill for the rest of the night, and work on my screenplay.

I had a pretty good day today.

Hobobob