I can waste time with the best of them. Whitman’s loafing. Though I suppose he meant something lurid.
I can loaf without an agenda. I am almost a Buddhist loafer. I am not kidding.
I can drink a pot of tea and admire the snow.
Spend half a day listening to Chopin’s concertos which are better than I remembered from my lonely childhood beside the phonograph.
Walk in circles around my neighborhood with a dog for company.
I can waste time.
I know soon enough time will waste me.
I’m not afraid.
Do you hear me clocks?
The nothing that is not there and the nothing that is….you don’t scare me.
The power that comes from drifting.