Friday morning, barely awake...

It was one of those nights of inner storms. Dear Eckhart (Tolle) would be ashamed of all the addictive thoughts that marched through my head like a crazed army, creating chaos as the trudged along. I slept late, until a well-meaning friend, who knows better than to call me before 9 AM, rang me up. My phone plays Vivaldi, and it is kind of sweet to wake up to the strains of Spring, from the Four Seasons. Nevertheless, I could have used another hour. And Lord knows, the dogs would wait for me. They were both overjoyed to see me when I rose. They always are. It's their job. So, I have imbibed my first cup of Sumatra, a stack of lovely lacy thin pancakes with peach preserves and whipped cream with chopped nuts and cinammon on top, and read my e-mail. Wonderful article in my NY Times movie review section on David Cronenberg, who made two of my all time weird favorite movies, Videodrome and Naked Lunch. Have I mentioned I like quirky movies, things like Local Hero and Bagdhad Cafe? I love that the Coen Brothers came to the attention of the mainstream, yet loved it when they were obscure and I stood pretty much alone in my adoration. In high school, I started fashion trends. Why wait around for others? Mine always looked good on me! And I admire those on the avant garde in all aspects, like I was a Steve Martin fan long before he hit the mainstream with Roxanne. The Lonely Guy, The Man with Two Brains, comic genius, so much better than Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey, so much more cerebral in a nutso kind of way. Like, well, ME. I am here because I am not all there. And I am very proud of that fact. Why should I hide my head, or troop off to the funny farm? I am not any more nuts than the average American. And I can rein it is when I need to. And let it out, when appropriate. And I can laugh at myself. Thank HP. I would be in big trouble if I didn't do that, regularly.