Time to Read

There’s nothing on my calendar for today or tomorrow and I can’t tell you how rare that is these days. I’m a pretty busy boy for a man my age between hustling my wares and offering sage advice. It’s pretty nice to catch a break now and then. It seems to go along with my desire for Zen.

I started reading a book of short stories by a Polish legend named Stanislaw Lem. I had never heard of him before, but he came highly recommended by someone whose opinion I value. I’m two stories in and he’s good. He hasn’t altered my world view yet, but I’m willing to give him the time. I just made arrangements for one of my books to be available in England. I was flattered that they asked or as the headline should read: “Yankee Jazz Author glad the Brits give a shit!” So much for my colonial wit?

I have nothing epic planned to fill these forty-eight hours. I just killed a couple of them sitting in the sun with the aforementioned book. Once I finish this attempt at self-preservation, I think I’ll make myself a little lunch. The Gulf Coast has been calling me, so I’ll venture there tomorrow. I’ve got an open bottle of Malbec in case I run into any sorrow. It may sound silly, but I need a little color on my skin. I’m a pale white whale on a striped beach towel and that’s not how I want to see myself now.

I’ve got an expense check coming in this week and it’s money I don’t actually need. I’m going to pamper myself if I can figure out how, but I have to do it with care. The last time I threw away good money was on something I shouldn’t have dared. I don’t mean to sound like I’m rich, but there’s a banker in Sweden trying to arrange an inheritance. I thought all those dead princes came from Africa but this Scandinavian one shared my last name. I might as well enjoy his fortune, because it seems like I’m still far away from fame.

Many, many years ago on a beach in Santa Barbara I had days in a row with nothing to do. I read science fiction voraciously and learned how to cook a vegetable stew. I was lean and tan and confident, even as broke as a pauper. Today, I could buy the old me twice and still have money for supper. It’s nice the price of freedom finds time to come around again. I’m so willing to pay the piper for another moment of Zen.