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Raining Leaves
Dec. 17th, 2006 10:24 am♠
How lovely to walk under a rain of leaves! The falling orange petals under a gray sky.
I suppose it would be too much to hope to walk under a light snow, crossing a whitening landscape. I hanker to experience that one more time in life.
As it is, it was too warm for the single sweat jacket that Monk brought out, which ended up tied around his waist, though it was pleasantly cool, probably too cool for shorts.
xXx
How lovely to walk under a rain of leaves! The falling orange petals under a gray sky.
I suppose it would be too much to hope to walk under a light snow, crossing a whitening landscape. I hanker to experience that one more time in life.
As it is, it was too warm for the single sweat jacket that Monk brought out, which ended up tied around his waist, though it was pleasantly cool, probably too cool for shorts.
Raining Leaves
Dec. 17th, 2006 10:24 am♠
How lovely to walk under a rain of leaves! The falling orange petals under a gray sky.
I suppose it would be too much to hope to walk under a light snow, crossing a whitening landscape. I hanker to experience that one more time in life.
As it is, it was too warm for the single sweat jacket that Monk brought out, which ended up tied around his waist, though it was pleasantly cool, probably too cool for shorts.
xXx
How lovely to walk under a rain of leaves! The falling orange petals under a gray sky.
I suppose it would be too much to hope to walk under a light snow, crossing a whitening landscape. I hanker to experience that one more time in life.
As it is, it was too warm for the single sweat jacket that Monk brought out, which ended up tied around his waist, though it was pleasantly cool, probably too cool for shorts.
Freshening Up on a Grey Morning
Dec. 11th, 2006 01:04 pm♠
Before stepping into the shower, Monk checks his clock and winces when he sees it is already past ten-thirty. He had intended to skip the walk, since he did not have any bread for the ducks and was anxious to begin "Reading Vergil's Aeneid." But the grey, wet morning felt too good, feeling just a little cool. After being cooped up all the rainy day yesterday with Pop, he wanted to take in that air and get in a little exercise and freshen up with a shave and a shower.
I wonder how Monk had stayed in the house for those years, practically leaving only for Bo's annual vet appointment. That has to be almost as bad as prison. So stultifying. How did Monk stand it? I guess it just got normal somewhere down the line. At least Meredith woke him up from that.
xXx
Before stepping into the shower, Monk checks his clock and winces when he sees it is already past ten-thirty. He had intended to skip the walk, since he did not have any bread for the ducks and was anxious to begin "Reading Vergil's Aeneid." But the grey, wet morning felt too good, feeling just a little cool. After being cooped up all the rainy day yesterday with Pop, he wanted to take in that air and get in a little exercise and freshen up with a shave and a shower.
I wonder how Monk had stayed in the house for those years, practically leaving only for Bo's annual vet appointment. That has to be almost as bad as prison. So stultifying. How did Monk stand it? I guess it just got normal somewhere down the line. At least Meredith woke him up from that.
Freshening Up on a Grey Morning
Dec. 11th, 2006 01:04 pm♠
Before stepping into the shower, Monk checks his clock and winces when he sees it is already past ten-thirty. He had intended to skip the walk, since he did not have any bread for the ducks and was anxious to begin "Reading Vergil's Aeneid." But the grey, wet morning felt too good, feeling just a little cool. After being cooped up all the rainy day yesterday with Pop, he wanted to take in that air and get in a little exercise and freshen up with a shave and a shower.
I wonder how Monk had stayed in the house for those years, practically leaving only for Bo's annual vet appointment. That has to be almost as bad as prison. So stultifying. How did Monk stand it? I guess it just got normal somewhere down the line. At least Meredith woke him up from that.
xXx
Before stepping into the shower, Monk checks his clock and winces when he sees it is already past ten-thirty. He had intended to skip the walk, since he did not have any bread for the ducks and was anxious to begin "Reading Vergil's Aeneid." But the grey, wet morning felt too good, feeling just a little cool. After being cooped up all the rainy day yesterday with Pop, he wanted to take in that air and get in a little exercise and freshen up with a shave and a shower.
I wonder how Monk had stayed in the house for those years, practically leaving only for Bo's annual vet appointment. That has to be almost as bad as prison. So stultifying. How did Monk stand it? I guess it just got normal somewhere down the line. At least Meredith woke him up from that.
Cold Walking
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:06 am♠
It is a bit colder than I would like, with the temperature stuck down in the forties. The sun looks like it might come up today, but not this morning.
But I'm still going to take that walk. I have bread in hand. And I need to work off those nervous knots of negative, violent energy.
xXx
It is a bit colder than I would like, with the temperature stuck down in the forties. The sun looks like it might come up today, but not this morning.
But I'm still going to take that walk. I have bread in hand. And I need to work off those nervous knots of negative, violent energy.
Cold Walking
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:06 am♠
It is a bit colder than I would like, with the temperature stuck down in the forties. The sun looks like it might come up today, but not this morning.
But I'm still going to take that walk. I have bread in hand. And I need to work off those nervous knots of negative, violent energy.
xXx
It is a bit colder than I would like, with the temperature stuck down in the forties. The sun looks like it might come up today, but not this morning.
But I'm still going to take that walk. I have bread in hand. And I need to work off those nervous knots of negative, violent energy.
Riffing on Rousseau
Dec. 5th, 2006 01:17 pm♠
A sunny morning! I forgot that I can appreciate the sun, but it probably has to be on days with a wintry edge. It was a good morning for a walk. And it was nice to get in some reading on Schama's book during the post-breakfast rounds. It makes up for the abridged morning reading.
I was a little worried about "Citizens" during the weekend. I had forgotten the discussion about budget deficits and taxation and regulation. Even with Shama's wit and literary grace, that was tough going, far from fun reading. But we are past that now and it is as fun as I remembered. This morning he was riffing on Rousseau and the culture of Sensibility - as fun as any novel!
xXx
A sunny morning! I forgot that I can appreciate the sun, but it probably has to be on days with a wintry edge. It was a good morning for a walk. And it was nice to get in some reading on Schama's book during the post-breakfast rounds. It makes up for the abridged morning reading.
I was a little worried about "Citizens" during the weekend. I had forgotten the discussion about budget deficits and taxation and regulation. Even with Shama's wit and literary grace, that was tough going, far from fun reading. But we are past that now and it is as fun as I remembered. This morning he was riffing on Rousseau and the culture of Sensibility - as fun as any novel!
Riffing on Rousseau
Dec. 5th, 2006 01:17 pm♠
A sunny morning! I forgot that I can appreciate the sun, but it probably has to be on days with a wintry edge. It was a good morning for a walk. And it was nice to get in some reading on Schama's book during the post-breakfast rounds. It makes up for the abridged morning reading.
I was a little worried about "Citizens" during the weekend. I had forgotten the discussion about budget deficits and taxation and regulation. Even with Shama's wit and literary grace, that was tough going, far from fun reading. But we are past that now and it is as fun as I remembered. This morning he was riffing on Rousseau and the culture of Sensibility - as fun as any novel!
xXx
A sunny morning! I forgot that I can appreciate the sun, but it probably has to be on days with a wintry edge. It was a good morning for a walk. And it was nice to get in some reading on Schama's book during the post-breakfast rounds. It makes up for the abridged morning reading.
I was a little worried about "Citizens" during the weekend. I had forgotten the discussion about budget deficits and taxation and regulation. Even with Shama's wit and literary grace, that was tough going, far from fun reading. But we are past that now and it is as fun as I remembered. This morning he was riffing on Rousseau and the culture of Sensibility - as fun as any novel!
Of a Wintry Friday
Dec. 1st, 2006 09:56 pm♠
When Monk went to the library on Tuesday, Pop had his fill of the problem with the Satellite signal, and he put up the new receiver this morning. The funny thing is that the old receiver was working fine again, but I suppose it remains an interesting question whether there will be more disruptive quirks. Monk was thinking that the problem was with the Dish and the connections rather than the receiver.
Anyway, Monk took advantage of the set-up and the early morning sun, taking his walk, after getting Pop to wait until ten-thirty to put up the receiver so that he could get his fill of the morning reading. He took out his heavy, light blue sweatpants for the occasion, along with both sweatjackets. Because of the sun, he thought that he was being silly, and that he would need to take off at least one of the jackets. But the walk proved to be a challenge, as Monk continued to feel the bite of the cold, and he was tempted to cut the walk short.
Other than that, it was still a good reading day. Monk relearned - and, this time, for good - that the significance of Thetis is not only that she saved Zeus from the attempted coup of the other gods, but she was also fated to give birth to a son who would be more powerful than the father, and the problem was that Zeus and Poseidon wanted her, and the answer to the threat of an even greater son was to force Thetis to marry a mortal who would die in war. This business of rereading favored books really pays, at least for one with as faulty a memory as Monk's.
Speaking of rereading, Monk also began his weekend reading this afternoon, going with his hit-and-run reading, "Citizens." This was his intention. Of course, Monk still has that new Hard Case Crime book, Lawerence Block's "The Girl with the Long Green Heart," waiting on the shelves for him, but he likes to have more space between such books, having just finished rereading "Fade to Blonde" - wanting to keep the hard boiled theme fresh.
This option of using his hit-and-run reading for weekends will also help with the problem of not always having fresh, new fiction on hand, and money should then be less of a problem. Monk really does not want to lose the Times subscription. Those columns do hit the mark with appreciable frequency.
xXx
When Monk went to the library on Tuesday, Pop had his fill of the problem with the Satellite signal, and he put up the new receiver this morning. The funny thing is that the old receiver was working fine again, but I suppose it remains an interesting question whether there will be more disruptive quirks. Monk was thinking that the problem was with the Dish and the connections rather than the receiver.
Anyway, Monk took advantage of the set-up and the early morning sun, taking his walk, after getting Pop to wait until ten-thirty to put up the receiver so that he could get his fill of the morning reading. He took out his heavy, light blue sweatpants for the occasion, along with both sweatjackets. Because of the sun, he thought that he was being silly, and that he would need to take off at least one of the jackets. But the walk proved to be a challenge, as Monk continued to feel the bite of the cold, and he was tempted to cut the walk short.
Other than that, it was still a good reading day. Monk relearned - and, this time, for good - that the significance of Thetis is not only that she saved Zeus from the attempted coup of the other gods, but she was also fated to give birth to a son who would be more powerful than the father, and the problem was that Zeus and Poseidon wanted her, and the answer to the threat of an even greater son was to force Thetis to marry a mortal who would die in war. This business of rereading favored books really pays, at least for one with as faulty a memory as Monk's.
Speaking of rereading, Monk also began his weekend reading this afternoon, going with his hit-and-run reading, "Citizens." This was his intention. Of course, Monk still has that new Hard Case Crime book, Lawerence Block's "The Girl with the Long Green Heart," waiting on the shelves for him, but he likes to have more space between such books, having just finished rereading "Fade to Blonde" - wanting to keep the hard boiled theme fresh.
This option of using his hit-and-run reading for weekends will also help with the problem of not always having fresh, new fiction on hand, and money should then be less of a problem. Monk really does not want to lose the Times subscription. Those columns do hit the mark with appreciable frequency.
Of a Wintry Friday
Dec. 1st, 2006 09:56 pm♠
When Monk went to the library on Tuesday, Pop had his fill of the problem with the Satellite signal, and he put up the new receiver this morning. The funny thing is that the old receiver was working fine again, but I suppose it remains an interesting question whether there will be more disruptive quirks. Monk was thinking that the problem was with the Dish and the connections rather than the receiver.
Anyway, Monk took advantage of the set-up and the early morning sun, taking his walk, after getting Pop to wait until ten-thirty to put up the receiver so that he could get his fill of the morning reading. He took out his heavy, light blue sweatpants for the occasion, along with both sweatjackets. Because of the sun, he thought that he was being silly, and that he would need to take off at least one of the jackets. But the walk proved to be a challenge, as Monk continued to feel the bite of the cold, and he was tempted to cut the walk short.
Other than that, it was still a good reading day. Monk relearned - and, this time, for good - that the significance of Thetis is not only that she saved Zeus from the attempted coup of the other gods, but she was also fated to give birth to a son who would be more powerful than the father, and the problem was that Zeus and Poseidon wanted her, and the answer to the threat of an even greater son was to force Thetis to marry a mortal who would die in war. This business of rereading favored books really pays, at least for one with as faulty a memory as Monk's.
Speaking of rereading, Monk also began his weekend reading this afternoon, going with his hit-and-run reading, "Citizens." This was his intention. Of course, Monk still has that new Hard Case Crime book, Lawerence Block's "The Girl with the Long Green Heart," waiting on the shelves for him, but he likes to have more space between such books, having just finished rereading "Fade to Blonde" - wanting to keep the hard boiled theme fresh.
This option of using his hit-and-run reading for weekends will also help with the problem of not always having fresh, new fiction on hand, and money should then be less of a problem. Monk really does not want to lose the Times subscription. Those columns do hit the mark with appreciable frequency.
xXx
When Monk went to the library on Tuesday, Pop had his fill of the problem with the Satellite signal, and he put up the new receiver this morning. The funny thing is that the old receiver was working fine again, but I suppose it remains an interesting question whether there will be more disruptive quirks. Monk was thinking that the problem was with the Dish and the connections rather than the receiver.
Anyway, Monk took advantage of the set-up and the early morning sun, taking his walk, after getting Pop to wait until ten-thirty to put up the receiver so that he could get his fill of the morning reading. He took out his heavy, light blue sweatpants for the occasion, along with both sweatjackets. Because of the sun, he thought that he was being silly, and that he would need to take off at least one of the jackets. But the walk proved to be a challenge, as Monk continued to feel the bite of the cold, and he was tempted to cut the walk short.
Other than that, it was still a good reading day. Monk relearned - and, this time, for good - that the significance of Thetis is not only that she saved Zeus from the attempted coup of the other gods, but she was also fated to give birth to a son who would be more powerful than the father, and the problem was that Zeus and Poseidon wanted her, and the answer to the threat of an even greater son was to force Thetis to marry a mortal who would die in war. This business of rereading favored books really pays, at least for one with as faulty a memory as Monk's.
Speaking of rereading, Monk also began his weekend reading this afternoon, going with his hit-and-run reading, "Citizens." This was his intention. Of course, Monk still has that new Hard Case Crime book, Lawerence Block's "The Girl with the Long Green Heart," waiting on the shelves for him, but he likes to have more space between such books, having just finished rereading "Fade to Blonde" - wanting to keep the hard boiled theme fresh.
This option of using his hit-and-run reading for weekends will also help with the problem of not always having fresh, new fiction on hand, and money should then be less of a problem. Monk really does not want to lose the Times subscription. Those columns do hit the mark with appreciable frequency.
Morning Stroll
Jul. 19th, 2006 10:05 am♠
Monk really should remember that it is always good to take that walk. That felt good. He ought to make a daily habit out of it. But I suppose it would lose some of its charm that way...
xXx
Monk really should remember that it is always good to take that walk. That felt good. He ought to make a daily habit out of it. But I suppose it would lose some of its charm that way...
Cool Breezes
Apr. 16th, 2006 09:40 pm♠
Walking on Ellison Street near the pond, Monk hears another would-be musician locked away in a garage blowing out some brassy bleatings - Mary had a little lamb, fleece as white as snow. That such tender ambitions are likely to amount to no more than forgettables stored away to collect dust in a closet is saddening. These working-class neighborhoods are not likely to provide the sort of support for such an ability to take root and flower, even assuming that there is some genuine ability in these kids in the first place. Some parents are giving their starry-eyed children a chance to at least begin pursuing a dream.
************
This is the first time in perhaps years that a book has stirred Monk to cry. It would be a doggy's deathly illness that would do it. However, we are not quite finished with Watchers, and I am doubtful that Koontz is really going to make the end of his story that bitter. Still, he got Monk to cry, and he enjoyed the chance to vent the sadness and disappointment that he had stored inside himself, from a broken and loveless life to a mother's suicide, along with losing Princess and the doleful expectation of aged Little Bear's own death.
************
At the web page reporting the Scots study on women and height, Monk caught the headline that the author Muriel Spark died. That threw him back to his early college days at U.T.S.A.. When Monk was drowning in computer science and he turned to what he took to be serious reading, Muriel Spark was one of the authors he fixated on, reading a number of her books. Her and Charles Dickens.
************
Simple Tree left in the afternoon to drink and socialize with Jack and the gang, and Monk took the opportunity to give their one full-grown tree a big drink of water.
Our nights are cool enough that Monk is happy to find that he needs to shut off his ceiling fan in the wee hours. This coolness presumably helps to rein in the afternoon heat, but these days do get bad, and it occurs to Monk that the lack of April showers helps to account for this, not breaking down this heat, making for a hotter spring.
These cool breezes make it habitable, but they will not last forever.
xXx
Walking on Ellison Street near the pond, Monk hears another would-be musician locked away in a garage blowing out some brassy bleatings - Mary had a little lamb, fleece as white as snow. That such tender ambitions are likely to amount to no more than forgettables stored away to collect dust in a closet is saddening. These working-class neighborhoods are not likely to provide the sort of support for such an ability to take root and flower, even assuming that there is some genuine ability in these kids in the first place. Some parents are giving their starry-eyed children a chance to at least begin pursuing a dream.
************
This is the first time in perhaps years that a book has stirred Monk to cry. It would be a doggy's deathly illness that would do it. However, we are not quite finished with Watchers, and I am doubtful that Koontz is really going to make the end of his story that bitter. Still, he got Monk to cry, and he enjoyed the chance to vent the sadness and disappointment that he had stored inside himself, from a broken and loveless life to a mother's suicide, along with losing Princess and the doleful expectation of aged Little Bear's own death.
************
At the web page reporting the Scots study on women and height, Monk caught the headline that the author Muriel Spark died. That threw him back to his early college days at U.T.S.A.. When Monk was drowning in computer science and he turned to what he took to be serious reading, Muriel Spark was one of the authors he fixated on, reading a number of her books. Her and Charles Dickens.
************
Simple Tree left in the afternoon to drink and socialize with Jack and the gang, and Monk took the opportunity to give their one full-grown tree a big drink of water.
Our nights are cool enough that Monk is happy to find that he needs to shut off his ceiling fan in the wee hours. This coolness presumably helps to rein in the afternoon heat, but these days do get bad, and it occurs to Monk that the lack of April showers helps to account for this, not breaking down this heat, making for a hotter spring.
These cool breezes make it habitable, but they will not last forever.
Cool Breezes
Apr. 16th, 2006 09:40 pm♠
Walking on Ellison Street near the pond, Monk hears another would-be musician locked away in a garage blowing out some brassy bleatings - Mary had a little lamb, fleece as white as snow. That such tender ambitions are likely to amount to no more than forgettables stored away to collect dust in a closet is saddening. These working-class neighborhoods are not likely to provide the sort of support for such an ability to take root and flower, even assuming that there is some genuine ability in these kids in the first place. Some parents are giving their starry-eyed children a chance to at least begin pursuing a dream.
************
This is the first time in perhaps years that a book has stirred Monk to cry. It would be a doggy's deathly illness that would do it. However, we are not quite finished with Watchers, and I am doubtful that Koontz is really going to make the end of his story that bitter. Still, he got Monk to cry, and he enjoyed the chance to vent the sadness and disappointment that he had stored inside himself, from a broken and loveless life to a mother's suicide, along with losing Princess and the doleful expectation of aged Little Bear's own death.
************
At the web page reporting the Scots study on women and height, Monk caught the headline that the author Muriel Spark died. That threw him back to his early college days at U.T.S.A.. When Monk was drowning in computer science and he turned to what he took to be serious reading, Muriel Spark was one of the authors he fixated on, reading a number of her books. Her and Charles Dickens.
************
Simple Tree left in the afternoon to drink and socialize with Jack and the gang, and Monk took the opportunity to give their one full-grown tree a big drink of water.
Our nights are cool enough that Monk is happy to find that he needs to shut off his ceiling fan in the wee hours. This coolness presumably helps to rein in the afternoon heat, but these days do get bad, and it occurs to Monk that the lack of April showers helps to account for this, not breaking down this heat, making for a hotter spring.
These cool breezes make it habitable, but they will not last forever.
xXx
Walking on Ellison Street near the pond, Monk hears another would-be musician locked away in a garage blowing out some brassy bleatings - Mary had a little lamb, fleece as white as snow. That such tender ambitions are likely to amount to no more than forgettables stored away to collect dust in a closet is saddening. These working-class neighborhoods are not likely to provide the sort of support for such an ability to take root and flower, even assuming that there is some genuine ability in these kids in the first place. Some parents are giving their starry-eyed children a chance to at least begin pursuing a dream.
************
This is the first time in perhaps years that a book has stirred Monk to cry. It would be a doggy's deathly illness that would do it. However, we are not quite finished with Watchers, and I am doubtful that Koontz is really going to make the end of his story that bitter. Still, he got Monk to cry, and he enjoyed the chance to vent the sadness and disappointment that he had stored inside himself, from a broken and loveless life to a mother's suicide, along with losing Princess and the doleful expectation of aged Little Bear's own death.
************
At the web page reporting the Scots study on women and height, Monk caught the headline that the author Muriel Spark died. That threw him back to his early college days at U.T.S.A.. When Monk was drowning in computer science and he turned to what he took to be serious reading, Muriel Spark was one of the authors he fixated on, reading a number of her books. Her and Charles Dickens.
************
Simple Tree left in the afternoon to drink and socialize with Jack and the gang, and Monk took the opportunity to give their one full-grown tree a big drink of water.
Our nights are cool enough that Monk is happy to find that he needs to shut off his ceiling fan in the wee hours. This coolness presumably helps to rein in the afternoon heat, but these days do get bad, and it occurs to Monk that the lack of April showers helps to account for this, not breaking down this heat, making for a hotter spring.
These cool breezes make it habitable, but they will not last forever.
The Morning of Walking Dangerously
Nov. 27th, 2005 06:16 pm♠
Big vehicles, narrow roads… and no sidewalks.
~
Monk had almost forgotten how remorseless San Antonio can be toward its plebeian pedestrians. For his morning walk, Monk was more ambitious than just taking that neighborhood walk to the duck pond, deciding to try to scratch his revived itch for pop fiction, needing to fill out the interstices in the re-opened vistas of time and emotional life with something easy and at least superficially fetching, a cute enough slut rather than a serious romance.
He walked down to Walgreens, since the nearer convenience store only carries pornographic fiction, such as a little magazine titled “Family Tales.” Monk has better porn than that at home, though he remembers woefully his pre-Internet days when he would try to scratch that particular itch with such diluted offerings.
At Walgreens he was happy to see racks bulging with fat paperback novels. After perusing all the melodramatic suspense stories and the sugary romantic chick-books, Monk came away with John Grisham's The Broker, a political thriller. Though, while he was in line at the checkout stand, peeking more into the book, he started having doubts, "Maybe I should have went with one of the sex-murder suspenses."
Having begun Grisham's tale, Monk is happy with the choice, as he is reminded of how addictively fun these pop novels can be. One only hopes that he does not start letting this sordid affair crowd out his quality time with his poetry and history.
( The Tease )
xXx
Big vehicles, narrow roads… and no sidewalks.
~
Monk had almost forgotten how remorseless San Antonio can be toward its plebeian pedestrians. For his morning walk, Monk was more ambitious than just taking that neighborhood walk to the duck pond, deciding to try to scratch his revived itch for pop fiction, needing to fill out the interstices in the re-opened vistas of time and emotional life with something easy and at least superficially fetching, a cute enough slut rather than a serious romance.
He walked down to Walgreens, since the nearer convenience store only carries pornographic fiction, such as a little magazine titled “Family Tales.” Monk has better porn than that at home, though he remembers woefully his pre-Internet days when he would try to scratch that particular itch with such diluted offerings.
At Walgreens he was happy to see racks bulging with fat paperback novels. After perusing all the melodramatic suspense stories and the sugary romantic chick-books, Monk came away with John Grisham's The Broker, a political thriller. Though, while he was in line at the checkout stand, peeking more into the book, he started having doubts, "Maybe I should have went with one of the sex-murder suspenses."
Having begun Grisham's tale, Monk is happy with the choice, as he is reminded of how addictively fun these pop novels can be. One only hopes that he does not start letting this sordid affair crowd out his quality time with his poetry and history.
( The Tease )
The Morning of Walking Dangerously
Nov. 27th, 2005 06:16 pm♠
Big vehicles, narrow roads… and no sidewalks.
~
Monk had almost forgotten how remorseless San Antonio can be toward its plebeian pedestrians. For his morning walk, Monk was more ambitious than just taking that neighborhood walk to the duck pond, deciding to try to scratch his revived itch for pop fiction, needing to fill out the interstices in the re-opened vistas of time and emotional life with something easy and at least superficially fetching, a cute enough slut rather than a serious romance.
He walked down to Walgreens, since the nearer convenience store only carries pornographic fiction, such as a little magazine titled “Family Tales.” Monk has better porn than that at home, though he remembers woefully his pre-Internet days when he would try to scratch that particular itch with such diluted offerings.
At Walgreens he was happy to see racks bulging with fat paperback novels. After perusing all the melodramatic suspense stories and the sugary romantic chick-books, Monk came away with John Grisham's The Broker, a political thriller. Though, while he was in line at the checkout stand, peeking more into the book, he started having doubts, "Maybe I should have went with one of the sex-murder suspenses."
Having begun Grisham's tale, Monk is happy with the choice, as he is reminded of how addictively fun these pop novels can be. One only hopes that he does not start letting this sordid affair crowd out his quality time with his poetry and history.
( The Tease )
xXx
Big vehicles, narrow roads… and no sidewalks.
~
Monk had almost forgotten how remorseless San Antonio can be toward its plebeian pedestrians. For his morning walk, Monk was more ambitious than just taking that neighborhood walk to the duck pond, deciding to try to scratch his revived itch for pop fiction, needing to fill out the interstices in the re-opened vistas of time and emotional life with something easy and at least superficially fetching, a cute enough slut rather than a serious romance.
He walked down to Walgreens, since the nearer convenience store only carries pornographic fiction, such as a little magazine titled “Family Tales.” Monk has better porn than that at home, though he remembers woefully his pre-Internet days when he would try to scratch that particular itch with such diluted offerings.
At Walgreens he was happy to see racks bulging with fat paperback novels. After perusing all the melodramatic suspense stories and the sugary romantic chick-books, Monk came away with John Grisham's The Broker, a political thriller. Though, while he was in line at the checkout stand, peeking more into the book, he started having doubts, "Maybe I should have went with one of the sex-murder suspenses."
Having begun Grisham's tale, Monk is happy with the choice, as he is reminded of how addictively fun these pop novels can be. One only hopes that he does not start letting this sordid affair crowd out his quality time with his poetry and history.
( The Tease )
Walking in the Misty Morning
Nov. 6th, 2005 04:39 pm♠
Coming in from his morning walk, Monk was surprised and a little disappointed to see that Little Bear was not there waiting for him. Then, he saw the little puddle of watery saliva at his familiar spot, and he understood that the eskie was feeling guilty over messing up, and he was curled away in the washroom.
The morning was overcast and misty, dreamy for Monk. The skies cleared fast, though, so that Monk even felt a little urge to put on the air-conditioner, though the temperatures stayed under ninety, just barely. "We could still use a nice cold front. To help tide us over until winter."
+++++++
December 4, 2008
Poor baby. I'm sorry, Bo. You knew, and you always tried hard. Why couldn't I accept that? Sorry, baby.
xXx
Coming in from his morning walk, Monk was surprised and a little disappointed to see that Little Bear was not there waiting for him. Then, he saw the little puddle of watery saliva at his familiar spot, and he understood that the eskie was feeling guilty over messing up, and he was curled away in the washroom.
The morning was overcast and misty, dreamy for Monk. The skies cleared fast, though, so that Monk even felt a little urge to put on the air-conditioner, though the temperatures stayed under ninety, just barely. "We could still use a nice cold front. To help tide us over until winter."
+++++++
December 4, 2008
Poor baby. I'm sorry, Bo. You knew, and you always tried hard. Why couldn't I accept that? Sorry, baby.
Walking in the Misty Morning
Nov. 6th, 2005 04:39 pm♠
Coming in from his morning walk, Monk was surprised and a little disappointed to see that Little Bear was not there waiting for him. Then, he saw the little puddle of watery saliva at his familiar spot, and he understood that the eskie was feeling guilty over messing up, and he was curled away in the washroom.
The morning was overcast and misty, dreamy for Monk. The skies cleared fast, though, so that Monk even felt a little urge to put on the air-conditioner, though the temperatures stayed under ninety, just barely. "We could still use a nice cold front. To help tide us over until winter."
+++++++
December 4, 2008
Poor baby. I'm sorry, Bo. You knew, and you always tried hard. Why couldn't I accept that? Sorry, baby.
xXx
Coming in from his morning walk, Monk was surprised and a little disappointed to see that Little Bear was not there waiting for him. Then, he saw the little puddle of watery saliva at his familiar spot, and he understood that the eskie was feeling guilty over messing up, and he was curled away in the washroom.
The morning was overcast and misty, dreamy for Monk. The skies cleared fast, though, so that Monk even felt a little urge to put on the air-conditioner, though the temperatures stayed under ninety, just barely. "We could still use a nice cold front. To help tide us over until winter."
+++++++
December 4, 2008
Poor baby. I'm sorry, Bo. You knew, and you always tried hard. Why couldn't I accept that? Sorry, baby.
