I got tagged by my Polish Pal to do the 10/10 list. 10 things I love. 10 things I hate. It goes without saying that I love my family and health. So I won’t say it.
I love little baby ducks, old pickup trucks, slow movin’ trains and rain.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I love that. I find it strangely comforting.
I love when I reveal my age and someone says, “Oh, you don’t look that old” and they mean it.
I love the nightlife. I got to boogie on the disco ‘round.
Good God in heaven, sweet Mother of Jesus, I love New York City. I was walking down 54th Street on a sunny day, in a good mood, looked down and saw this Haiku written in chalk on a sidewalk:
I love coffee. It’s the affordable addiction. The one that won’t cost you your family or job.
Love is all around no need to waste it. You can have the town, why don’t you take it?
We disciplined the 8-Year Old and she went to bed upset. I love that the next morning My Bride found this under her pillow from her older sister. It makes me feel like I’m finally doing something right.
I love paper and ink. I like how they smell when married together. I like how it blackens my fingertips.
I love this Bukowski poem. From top to bottom it is, for me, the truest and most perfect poem I’ve ever read. I own a letterpressed broadside of it and go back to it all the time. It fortifies me.
a consistent sort
at the track
the other day
the announcer screamed:
“HERE COMES PAIN!”
I had a bet on
he didn’t win
but he will
and you can
bet on that
I hate myself for loving you. Can’t break free from the things that you do. I wanna walk but I run back to you. That’s why I hate myself for loving you. (Ow! Uh!)
I hate when that happens.
I hate Jeff Bezos and his Amazon shitsite. He single-handedly slaughtered bookstores. He took something away that was important and vital and meaningful in my life.
I hate that something’s bothering you right now. I wish I could help you solve that problem. Is there anything I can do?
I hate mobile phones. I hate what they’ve turned us into. I wish I could put the genie back in the bottle. I’d do it. I’D TOTALLY DO IT.
I hate my vanity. Who fucking cares how old I look? What difference does THAT make?
I hate that I’m not over it yet. My God. How many years ago was that? Enough already. That’s enough.
I hate rap. It’s ugly, corrosive and anti-life. It’s the new slavery.
I hate the CEO’s of giant investment banks. If I was sitting at a bar and Jamie Dimon was on one side of me and Lloyd Blankfein was sitting on the other side and I got up to put money in the jukebox, those two clowns would have a fistfight over who was going to steal my change off the top of the bar as soon as my back was turned. They’re nothing a bunch of cheap pickpockets and thieves.
I hate 9/11. Who fucked up my town? And my wedding anniversary, to boot?