Waking up in a general, non-descript bad mood
has me throwing caution to the wind and remembering
that my skateboarding comedian friend Sean Cougar Melon Jordan
used to think the phrase was throw 'caush into the wind',
like caush was a word unto itself.
And this thought which used to amuse me
now annoys me and so I have another excuse
to do something stupid like microwave last night’s Taco Bell for breakfast,
ignore my writing chores and watch Sixteen Candles on cable.
They’ve edited out the Asian slurs and the use of the word Fag
which is fine but annoys me at this moment because no one should edit art,
and then I remember this is cable and I wouldn’t want my kid hearing those words
come out of Molly Ringwald's mouth.
My phone vibrates and it’s Franco and this annoys me,
because he will want to talk about Liz or Jongo
or go into gross detail about fucking some 23-year-old and I am too sober for that shit,
so I send him straight to voicemail which he will be aware of,
and probably bring up next time we talk,
when I should answer because we have to figure out
our Brooklyn living situation when I am back in November.
Oh well, be selfish, I tell myself, remembering a previous poem,
and I am annoyed again at wasted time,
but then I bite into lukewarm Taco Bell only to be reminded
that it could be worse and I look up to see a conspicuous mirror in front of me,
showing me my life and the Fire Sauce on my face,
and just like that I am cured of that day's stupidity
which will inevitably come back but hopefully I will recognize it and make better choices.
Later, burping up benign existence before bed,
I stare up at the ceiling and wonder what Monday will bring,
just as everyone who has ever lived has laid in beds
thinking, worrying, pondering tomorrows,
and I realize I am not special, and this makes me feel better for now.