I should brush my teeth

I actually didn't do that last night.

Nor this morning after coffee and leftover pizza.
Yep, leftover pizza.

No omelet or frittata today. No fancy fixins.
Too pooped.

Was in bed most of yesterday trying to recoup
from the on call the night before.

Trying to adjust to being on-call at fifty is hard--
rock candy hard...hard freeze hard...hard as the
dried earth in August, the soil 7 weeks without rain,
hard.

Hard.

I concede to being too old to want to adjust to being
on call. I concede to the body's request that I seek
other career opportunities.

I feel chained, like Brueghel's monkeys. Me and my
conscience up there, seated in front of a window,
the vast world beyond not open to us. We pick up
the meager scraps tossed out at us. Grateful to be
surviving.

Grateful to not be fed to the wolves. Grateful to sit
there chained together, our purpose to amuse others.

One of us looks at the people. One of us looks at the
ground. Neither of us can bring ourselves to look
out the window...look to the vast beyond, which cannot be ours.

***************************************

Thought of this song night before last when I was
driving home:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQXnvNwGTAY

I am going to search for some Neil Young tickets.

Then I am going to brush my teeth. Wash my face. Brush
the tangles outta my long hair. Take a shower or soak
in the tub.

Try to act like I care.