New American Yarnprose: Lefty Dizz And The Morning After>Act One

In the realm of the big picture, the morning after has come and gone and already, I feel sick to my stomach. I actually slept straight through the night for a change, but my mind is laden with such heavy decisions now.

Not that it wasn’t before, but this time it’s very life-altering, changes that would take me far beyond what I have always been used to in previous years. I live a simple life now; as simple as can be. I go to the harvest, come home from the harvest and do whatever I feel is necessary to live out the rest of the gospel based on the harvest.

The last two weeks haves been very difficult, as I’ve been dragged down from walking right into a black sea of pneumonia, stuffed up with a bad head cold and in general, unable to function properly.

It’s cost me dearly: two lost weeks of no writing anything; no poetry, no essays, no songs, no nothing! Still the flow of ideas bubbled over in my brain, but now, now it’s the long morning after: Fidel Castro is extremely sick, more American soldiers are being blown to bits by another god-damned homemade bomb in Iraq for George W. Bush Junior’s “Quagmire For Freedom,” retail stores are cashing in on day-after Christmas sales and like everything else, it’s business as usual.

But is it really? I feel less grim. I had a great night at the neighborhood saloon with my pals the other night, one of the best nights I had in years, coming home sloshed with a girl on each arm and the antics that followed, hoo-boy!

It’s the morning after and I feel sick, upset stomach I think, though maybe it was stress and not the effects of the booze in my head. I get some shortbread and that does the trick, turns the key in the keyhole and I’m ready to face the day, though the day is the night and another night, the night after the morning after, is bound to be adventurous!