Today Was A Good Day

I got out of bed, fairly well rested, with enough time to get ready without a cat freaking dash through the place. And I had Radiohead's "Black Star" nicely sitting at the front of my mind to boot. I picked up my phone to see that there was a voicemail awaiting. I was a bit concerned that there was a panicked call from the middle of the night in Phoenix, something pertaining to my vacationing wife and child and a windblown horde of scorpions (even if it was the band, yikes). But it was simply my mother informing me that she was at that moment sitting with my son. I could easily assume that already so I was a little unsure of the point. The message sort of felt like a perverse sort of bragging, but I think mom was actually trying to tell me that I have a cute baby; and well, she's right.

I walked through the waking streets of Seattle in that perfect, pale spring morning; no chill riding the air and the trees just digging being trees for the moment. I had the momentum of my walk halted by a red light and at first let out an exasperated sigh through my nostrils. Then I realized I could see the Sound from my place on a hill, the water an impossible mix of hometown blue and the pink of dawn. I could smell the salt coming tramping up the air like a priceless gift drawn by invisible carriage, the smell reminding me, as always, of home and family and history and comfort and living blood, and I realized that it was a good thing that I was stopped for a moment with nothing else to do but take it in.

Later on down the road, I saw a hairy young man aimlessly strumming an acoustic guitar. I was reminded of the wise words of my good friend, and lesbian life partner, Chris Harper: "That's not vagina."

Indeed it was not.

Also not vagina, but a great capper to the first part of my day was the news of Jerry Falwell had left his fat fuck corpse littering his office. Now, I don't know what happens when a person dies, but I certainly hope that in his case he saw the "pearly gates" approaching, God waving him in with 2 thumbs up for a job well done there on earth, before the whole scene morphed into whatever torture chamber is reserved for those evil, intolerant, hateful fucks who spout their foul and ignorant beliefs couched in a perverted form of religion. If there is a hell, welcome to it Mr. Falwell. If reincarnation is the way we're given, I hope you enjoy your next life as shit eating flat worm.

Oh, and I had leftover pizza for lunch! Man, today is a good day.