I just got back from dinner. Two guys I know through the program. I had the gorgonzola salad (small) with the rancid dressing. I had about two bites. I'm writing because I promised myself I'd write every day but, sadly, I don't have anything special to talk about. Oh. There is one bit of fascinating news. I cleaned the parrot's perch. I took the damned thing outside and used a chisel to scrape off the droppings, which, in three days had hardened into a substance harder than diamonds. Tomorrow I drop off the car at the body shop and get a rental for four or five days. That's exciting because, as my friend Sam always points out, nothing handles like a rental. I intend to drive the thing as hard as the law allows.
At dinner one subject that came up was insomnia. I've got a whopping case of it. Tonight, I'll spend some time on the internet, do some reading and play my good guitar for an hour or so. I looked up the guitar on ebay. It's worth more than the house. And there's my other, smaller, guitar which is on ebay for seven thousand dollars. I'm going to sell it assuming I can find a buyer. It's a very rare guitar. Too rare. It's the size of a travel guitar. But this one's special. Rosewood and beautiful inlays. That and the fact that it's the best sounding small guitar I've ever played. And they only made a hundred of them, of which this is number 44. That's enough. I'll get on with my story, about how I escaped from the parking lot and more. But not now. Tomorrow. I'm too tired to do it justice right now. Get some sleep all you fellow insomniacs.
No comments:
Post a Comment