Closed my eyes, and I thought I was back to the same place.
going to be late, I was pretty sure I was going to be late.
who cares, there is so much more to life than work.
Mice Parade, Focus on a Roller Coaster. One of my favorites, and I smiled.
 I could hear the guitar strumming in the background,
and I was riding on the sidewalk to avoid cars, I swerved past some low branches.
I stopped. he stopped.
I crossed, and he took the foot off the break.
 Closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath.

I like all kinds of music, however, like everyone, there are some songs I just don’t like. While I prefer something other than the Bridal Chorus for the bride’s walk down the aisle, that one is completely lovely compared to the Chicken Dance or Hokey Pokey, waiting in the wings at the reception.

Therefore, at the wedding of my friend, the groom, I was delighted to learn that he’d taken aside the leader of the band, and informed him in definite terms that if the band played either of these reception gems, there would be no check at the end.

At karaoke everyone has “their” songs.
My songs are Stevie Nicks songs. Someone always does AC/DC. Someone does “Sister Christian.” Daniel always sings “Born to Run.”
I worked on “Born to Run” in the car. I wouldn’t try it unless it was perfect.
One night I went to the DJ. “I’m going to do ‘Born to Run,’ but don’t tell Daniel.”
He tried to put it in, but the DJ said, “No, we have a surprise for you.”
The DJ called my name and said, “Dan, here’s your surprise.”
And I sang it.
He smiled, and I knew I belonged.

First off, I am not on a pilgrimage.

The wine was sweet, but the bottle was empty.

‘Waiter, another one,’ the waiter sighs as he grabs another bottle for me. I should have picked out another tie, not my good one.

‘Are you sure sir?’ a raised eyebrow. I hate that, condescending.

‘Of course I’m sure, now just bring on the fucking wine,’ and would you believe he looked at me with pity as he handed me the bottle?

I felt like God, the wine burning my throat pleasantly.

 

Secondly, the line at Lourdes is terrible.

Where’s the wine.

“I am Karl and this is Erik, my apprentice.”

“I’m not your apprentice; you’re my apprentice.”

“What?”

“Well an apprentice isn’t very edgy is it? And I’m as edgy as an octagon and you…well…”

“What?”

“Well, you’re about as edgy as a Jacobean ruff.”

“I thought you said they were in?”
“Yeah, well they’re out right now.”

“Sure, whatever,” Karl fumed. He was wearing a Jacobean ruff with a turtleneck.

“Sorry mate,” Erik tilted his feathery hat to the side.

“You know it takes twenty peacocks to make one of those hats.”

“Bull shit…really?”

Karl adjusted his Jacobean ruff, “Nah.”

As I rode my bike away from the shelter, the volunteers standing at the gates were having their cigarettes in the cold. I rode away believing that something we had done inside tonight had in some way changed one man’s life. The bike ride home gave a glimpse of the river and a great big piece of the night sky. I felt alive somehow, thankful that I can put something back into this crazy mad capital city. It’s a city that can swallow a person alive, but can also catch someone falling and stop them being destroyed.