Somebody Moved My Lava

Old man winter is hangin on, the bastard. A rime of ice on the deck, nervous gusts howlin in the bare limbs, sideways blowin crows down by the lake, roads slick in the shade. The garbagemen are bundled up like astronauts, movin real fast to unload the yellow critter cans, hoppin from foot to foot on the back of the truck. The sun is up but oh so far away.

In the kitchen I got a mouse been eatin at my soap, he drags it over to his little passageway by the stove, and leaves the shavings all along the countertop. Poor guy must really be hungry. Lava ain't cheese, after all.

I been tryin to adjust to these silent mornings. Usually I turn on Morning Edition and The Takeaway with its loud and ugly music makin my nerves all jangly, but this week they're doin the fundraiser, and I can't take it. The news is pretty much the same anyways -- a lot of trouble with a few bright spots in between. Experts makin claims for their expertise. Journalists attempting 'analysis.' Men and women of substance sounding insubstantial. I guess you could say that they're better than the loudmouths on the commercial stations, but that's thin gruel. I support 'em good enough, though if I'm still outta work next year, forget it.

Shoot, everybody's lookin for financial support these days. It's hard to tell who really needs it, and who is just hoistin themselves aboard the Great American Stimulus Train. When bankers and brokers act like bums, it robs the real bums of their dignity. You wanna see the Free Market Boys driven outta town, but not down that track.

I'm holin up against the cold and studyin the dregs in the bottom of my teacup. It's February, leave a man alone with his shite. I figger I used to be an effing salaryman, I mean my phone had a lotta buttons on it, and my calendar was filled with meetings, and my card key worked its magic, but that was a long time ago. One whole effing month. Now I'm likin the idea I could actually become a book bum, with nothin except Big Ideas and Small Handouts to subsist on.

Quist thought Men With Ideas would have no trouble findin work. "The world is always looking for bold new ideas and good men to implement them." I'm thinkin to myself, wotta lotta crap.