All of a sudden I'm overcome by a...feelin' of brief mortality. 'Cause I'm gettin' on in the world, coming up on forty-one years—forty-one stony gray steps towards the grave, you-know the box awaits it's grisly load. Now I'm gonna be food for worms. And just like Charles Mingus wrote that beautiful piece of music "Epitaph" for Eric Dolphy. I say "So long, Eric...so long John Coltrane and Charles Mingus...so long Duke Ellington and Lester Young...so long Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald...so long Jimmy Reed...so long Muddy Waters...and so long Howlin' Wolf."
41 years old today. I don't actually have any feelings of brief mortality, but I love that introducory monologue to "Woke Up This Morning" by Alabama 3.
Big turkey dinner tonight, lots of mashed potatos, followed by pie.
I may just skip tomorrow's weigh-in on purpose to avoid contaminating the data with an anomalous measurement. Yeah, that's it.
(Oh, and thanks for the link, Bubba.)
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