Sunday, December 31, 2006

New Year's Eve 2006

Yes, this is what I'm beginning to look like: recognized by a preconscient preternatural Albrecht Durer.
It's not cold tonight and hardly foggy.
I hope there will be no earth-shattering events tonight.
A few fireworks down on the Embarcadero by the Bay.
I'm home, laundry done, Ananda pretending a blanket is a cave:
Happy as a clam am I; happy and my heart content:

A bomb in San Bruno was discovered in a home not far from SFO;
Monday, the first day of 2007 is my last vacation day;
I watched Keith Barry tonight on CBS: pretty amazing fooling around
with celebrities, doing his Illusions, making them forget or confused
and liking it;

Can you name all the dead presidents? will you brave the elements?
sure, sure put in your two cents: I know what you're thinking
even before you think it: I'm my own worst enemy.

People are supposed to put off driving and not burn wood because
they say it's a save the air night; the Bay Bridge looks twinkley if a little
fuzzy on my TV; temperatures are 37 - 48 degrees over the Bay Area;
Sunny Pleasant temperatures are predicted for tomorrow but there
is a Storm out on the Pacific; cozy and warm here in the apartment;

I watched My Blue Heaven this afternoon; great Technicolor of soft gray tones:
Gray Grays, silvery grays, French Grays, green grays, blue grays; shades of
Navy Blue and very few blacks, all punctuated and accented with autumny
tones of greens and reds; beautifully lit; the story is so so; the cast: delightful.

I don't feel hell-bent; or full of incident; I feel like a fly in ointment; I wonder
if I've ever made a gentleman's agreement; I know I'm a glutton for punishment
and enjoy giving but not receiving left-handed compliments; I certainly
want to attain true enlightenment while in my element and don't ever
want to receive a capital punishment but most definitely want the red-carpet
treatment; and worry over people giving me the silent
treatment; from moment to moment I worry or fret; and on the spur of
the moment I get up and pour some coffee; time signs my death warrant; I'm the
heir apparent to failure; and in a weird halfway decent way I'm feeling
heaven sent and instead of having not one red cent I'd rather be
partying at Spundae or 1015 Folsom or sitting quietly receiving the future
like a horn of plenty with twenty-twenty hindsight.

Other than that city traffic moves smoothly, is light,

Let's see: what have I forgotten.

-- jw


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