July 13, 2006
Above me Ian & Sean are eating breakfast. They've put on the Jack Johnson CD "Brushfire Fairy Tales" and I hear "...breaking your mind, I'm... breaking your mind..." or whatever the lyrics are.

I took the dog for a walk. It's going to be 86 degrees today. It's already hot and humid. A large full moon like a ghost hung in the western sky as I walked across the Clear Lake Elementary School playground. It was freshly mown, the grass wet with dew. The sky was the color of faded denim.

My skin feels cool. Sweat from my walk, evaporating off my skin. My feet are chilly because my office is in the basement of my house, which never gets hot, although it sometimes get damp from humidity.

Breakfast was oatmeal with brown sugar, whole wheat toast with peanut butter and a glass of orange juice. I share the toast with Frodo. I take two pills with breakfast. One is a large vitamin that I can't swallow, so I chew it. It is chalky and bitter on my tongue, a strange contrast to the peanut butter and oatmeal and orange juice.

As I walk the dog I smell fresh mown grass, the chemical exhaust of cars passing by. Two crows face each other atop a sycamore tree. Talking? Passing the time? Not a sound from these two crows. Are they thinking about breakfast? Wondering about that guy and his dog below?

My Tuesday workout is still killing me. Abs and legs. My lower stomach still hurts, like a band of pain. Must be the leg lifts Loretta had me doing. Or the twisted jackknife. Inner thighs sore, so I guess the abductors and adductors did their job.

The computer hums when I stop tapping at the keys. I can hear it. Jack Johnson is singing another song now. Upbeat, "...bubbly toes..." Sean makes a noise, a cross between a moan and sigh, maybe he's singing. Thuds from above.

The carpeting feels rough on my bare feet. The bottom of my left foot itches. My right toe itches. I can feel my watch on my wrist. Jack Johnson sings, "...you're missin' me..."

Best,
Mark Terry