It is almost eleven a.m. I slept late; it felt good. It is raining outside, and the new R.E.M. single, “Discoverer,” is playing through my speakers. At first listen, it doesn’t sound like a bad R.E.M.song. I try, though, to never judge a song until I have listened to it quite a few times.
I have a cup of coffee at my elbow. I am thankful for this, and though it is cold, and wet outside, it is warm in here, and I am thankful for that.
It is a good day to be alive, but like my friend Bill Brown pointed out in a recent K stream, what day isn’t a good day to be alive? I have things to do that would carry me out into the weather, but I think that I am going to cancel all outdoor plans, and just stay where it is warm and dry.
My dog, Bundy, and my cat, Kobain, share the waterbowl, happily lapping up the fresh water that I have just poured into the bowl, while my dog, Morisson, picks up the last of the dried oatmeal that I have dropped onto the floor for him, and Bundy, to consume. Bundy was into the oatmeal, for a minute, but he is more into the water. We took a long walk this morning, and I am sure that it left him thirsty.
At the beginning of our walk, we met the most beautiful light brown colored pit bull, who I will call Dylan. Dylan had no collar and was wandering a busy street by himself. I wasn’t sure what to do, at first, but after a bit I turned my dogs around, and tried to get Dylan to follow us home. I figured that, at the least, Dylan could hang out on The Love Porch, until I figured out what to do with him. Dylan and Bundy got along well, and Morisson liked Dylan, also, so I wasn’t scared of fights.
Dylan did not follow us the whole way home; he stopped at a house that seemed familiar to him. Bundy, Morisson, and I continued our walk. I thought about Dylan the whole time that I was walking my dogs. Had I done the right thing by just walking off, and leaving him there? How the heck could I add a third dog to my pack, if that is what had to be done? How do rescue groups work? Aren’t they all full, right now, because of the lousy economy?
When I got home, I put Mo and Bundy inside, grabbed a leash, and headed back to where I had last seen Dylan. A part of me was scared that I was going to find Dylan dead in the road. I did not see him anywhere, though, and I hope that he is alright.
People, including myself, really need to keep a close eye on their dogs(mine like to wander), and all dogs should have a collar with the owner’s phone number on it.
Good luck to you Dylan. It was nice meeting you.
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Someone stole my black Yoga blanket off of The Love Porch, last night. They must have needed it worse than I did; some homeless guy, I imagine, who will never take Yoga. He also stole the remote control that turns our porch lights on and off; I wish that he hadn’t stolen that. He didn’t need it, but I do.
K PICS BELOW: Top row left: Artist Jane Elliot Ries is seen here checking out Spanky and The Love Handles, at Einstein’s in Oakhurst, where the band plays at 8pm on Thursdays.
The other two top row pics are Spanky, aka Clark Vreeland. Drummer Bob Rice is seen, with Spanky, in the pic on the right.
Bottom Row is all K, with Beth Vreeland, the phenomenal Spanky and The Love Handle bass Player. (K joined Spanky and Krew on stage to do his bit, “Someday, I will start The Revolution”
Spanky and The Love Handles is a great, great band. http://www.myspace.com/spankyandthelovehandles
Photos of K, and Beth Vreeland, by Art Linton; other photos by K.
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Poems from The Love Porch where the black Yoga blanket no longer resides
By K
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Don’t push send unless you are certain
Once you put it in writing
it is like a sidewalk that
has dried, a building that
has been built, a relationship
that has been cemented.
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No hair loss
his beard grows.
his hair gets longer.
he grows old.
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Move
It’s broken, and I can’t fix it.
Having no desire to do so means
that it really doesn’t matter if
it gets put to the side of the
street when I make my next move.
———————
Lazy?
Some people are better at
different things than others.
I can write a poem better
than I can clean an oven;
“Oh bullshit,” said my friend,
“You’re just lazy.”
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Traitors
Since it is cold, and raining out,
the dogs are not whining
to join me on the porch,
where I am staying warm, and dry,
with a notebook, and a pen.
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One last cold drop
There are no nice men;
they are all evil pigs.
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They’ve posted the cut off notice on their website;
if you’ve got the inclination to help with The K utility bill,
the time is now to put money in The Mikel K Tip Jar. I thank
all the folks that sent food money last week.
No man is an island, and I thank you for not letting me sink.
My unemployment check was suddenly cut off. Those folks are schizophrenic:they told me in person that I would be extended, sent me two letters saying I’d be extended, and then just sent me one saying I was cut off.
Who is hiring a poet/memoirist?
The K Tip Jar: http://www.mikelk.com/
