x-x-x-x-x. Jersey City

ThirtyOne/January/Ten

| | | — | | Another January winds to a close. Honey’s baby came at the end of the forty-first week. One week late, as they say, but first babies are usually at least a week late, so maybe they should make the due date a week or so later. A drug-free vaginal birth with a mid-wife. Pretty awesome. She was a lot quieter than Rivka had been with Rinah’s birth, but Rivka’s more dramatic in general. The new boy is beautiful. Keeps Honey up for hours in the middle of the night. Breastfeeding goes well. Tits all over the place up in here. Lovely. Another February starts tomorrow. Shortest month of the year. Black history month. Four weeks to make bill money. Four weeks to achieve whatever you’ll achieve in this year’s February. Tour weeks ‘till March. In like a lion, out like a lamb. Four weeks containing an infinite amount of moments to be in, unworried by the future and potential homelessness, undisturbed by lack of conventional success. We’re not worried about our retirement plans or getting fucked by health insurance ‘cause we’re on a mystical path toward neither. Is Zen a copout philosophy? Men, do you exercise your erections? Do you squeeze your nuts like a fist around hand-grip springs? Semen retention? Is it wrong to be a starving artist when there are jobs available? Even with a kid to feed? If artists performing for 600 people are considered underground, what does performing for 40 constitute? Dad self-published a book called Modeling for Life Drawing in the early eighties and now his kid put it on the web for him. It’s available world-wide. A life lived in the service of others is a life well lived. Albert Einstein said that, or something like it.

Hibernating workoholix. Mike |

31/01/2010