Alright, I admit it: I talk a lot. I wake up talking. I talk like a man who has had a gallon of Turkish coffee. (Note: when you’re in Greece don’t call it "Turkish coffee").
I woke this morning and said "bean sprout and Buddha" though I don’t know why. Then I said "winged chestnuts and garland of daisies".
I do not know why I say such things. I do not have Tourette’s and I can control my impulses to sing and dance for the most part, unless I have had too much of the grape.
The troubling thing is that I tend to wake up in a state of advanced good cheer. This is very annoying to the people who must share the kitchen with me. I’m talking right away about the kings of France and about the swell shoes they used to wear at Versailles.
I am, in short, full of exquisite dung. I am a minor character in Finnegan’s Wake.
Tuesday; walnut; hardware; ballet; ars moriendi; blow fish; spoon dropped in the snow…
I wake this way.
And sometimes I wish it might be otherwise.
On the bright side: I don’t have to fawn after the news for good cheer. I am glad that Alberto Gonzalez has resigned from the Justice Department. I am glad that the New York Mets are in first place in the National League East. I’m very glad that the Chicago Cubs are making a run for the Central Division.
I’m glad that genetic research is becoming a branch of linguistics.
I’m glad that autumn is coming and that college football will be returning this weekend.
I’m grateful to live on the same planet as Bishop Tutu.
But like Paul Simon, sometimes I feel like the only living boy in New York. I can get all the news I need from the weather report. I wake up saying "cake walk; la vie en rose; big bang; photo synthesis siblings…"
"Goodbye, Alberto. Goodbye grimy soap. Goodbye propeller hat. Goodbye walking catfish."
Planet of the Blind 
Blue Girl – you too? And do you dance in the aisles like Georgia does?
I just need to clarify something here. Don’t think I’m grumpy in the morning or anything. I just need to wake up S-L-O-W-L-Y. The dogs get it. I can say “shhhh, it’s too early…” and they respect that. The minute Steve gets up though they’re all up. That’s when I run for the shower.
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Connie, I’m afraid I am. T’other day Tom and I walked into a convenience store in PA about 6 a.m. and the radio or tape machine or whatever was blaring Junior Walker’s “Shotgun,” one of my all-time favorite songs. I started singing AND dancing in the aisles — and I’d had nothing stronger than decaf coffee that a.m. Tom said I got some pretty interesting stares from the other customers. It was obviously waaaaaay too early for everyone else to think about high-speed boogy. I say it’s never too early in the day to dance.
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I’m also pretty chipper in the morning. I don’t wake up speaking poetry though.
On more than one occasion he has, in response, broken out into song, Tom Jones’ “She’s a Lady” being one of his favorites. The louder the better of course.
Too funny.
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Thank you Miss Crip Chick for the heads up. We’re behind you!
Georgia, you’re not really one of “those” people are you? 🙂 I’m often saying to Steve (and the dogs) “shhhhh, it’s too early…” It’s risky on my part however. On more than one occasion he has, in response, broken out into song, Tom Jones’ “She’s a Lady” being one of his favorites. The louder the better of course.
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When the kids were at home I used to drive them crazy because I was so cheerful and talkative in the morning. You make me sound almost suicidally depressed by comparison!
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lol, i didn’t realize turkish coffee had special effects. is it stronger than other coffee or is it code name for something else? 😉
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