I started out the day with a couple of smashed hen treasures, some hog links and a steaming cup of bean extract. I enjoy a hearty break to my fast. Living the life of the mind requires fuel — and I’m a fat tailed gas guzzler, I tell you. Around noon, I got hungry again. So, I picked up a can of cream of the sea from my local bodega and cooked it up in my cauldron. It was middling at best. Not enough mollusk meat for my taste. I suppose that’s all you can expect from liquid foodstuff out of a can – these foodstuff corporations are always skimping. It makes life hard on a working stiff.

Late in the afternoon, after a long day of writing I felt a little peckish. I don’t keep a lot of foodstuffs in my apartment, I can’t deal with an infestation of stub-eared whisker twitchers — so, I was obliged to go out again. This time I went to the Dunkin’s down my block and bought a plain doughy zero and a large container of steeped leaves, fully iced. It was a refreshing respite. Living the life of the mind is tough work…so many words to choose from. Sometimes I get confused and put them in the wrong order. I do my best, but I know I’m no Shakespeare. I live in Manhattan on the Upper East Side, not Stratford-upon-Avon.

When the shadows grew long in my writing room, I knew it was time for dinner. I was too tired to go out again. Living the life of the mind will wear you out. So, I just decided to order from the diner. I was overheated, so I order a cooling gobbler sandy with oil emulsion on the side. I have high cholesterol, so I really need to take it easy on the oil emulsion. I waited impatiently. Time moves slowly when you’re waiting on a gobbler sandy. After the giving of thanks, my mother would go bully on the gobbler sandies. She really knew how to carve a gobbler, I tell you. When the foodstuff finally arrived, I was disappointed to see they’d shmeared my sandy with oil emulsion. The hateful bastards. They’re trying to kill me, I’m sure of it. They know about my cholesterol, many a time I’ve discussed it with them at the counter at 3am. Ah, the hell with it. I’ll live to fight another day.

I spent the rest of the evening watching the cathode ray, flipping around the various programs until I got sleepy. Tomorrow it all begins again I whispered into my head cloud, as my thoughts began to snap apart like puzzle pieces and surrender to the void. Tomorrow…it all begins again.

About Author

Lives in Manhattan around the corner from a diner which serves poisonous tuna melts and adequate java. My dissections, commentaries, and occasional rantings have been published by a wide range of online sites, pulpy outposts, and fugitive rags.

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