Not THAT late. But after an unfocussed day and some torrontes, I don't really feel up to philosophical or introspective writing at all.
Going through my head are two songs, one my mother made up for us as infants, and the other, the Rolling Stones' It's Only Rock and Roll. Although as I listen to it right now, I can see how derivative is of Chuck Berry's The Promised Land. It's a wonder that there was no lawsuit. (Here are the lyrics.)
A perfectly okay day, good in spots. But I had a difficult time being actually productive. And that is not to say that I failed. I couldn't find my groove of comfort and doing. I did however have a nice nap with a soft cat belly in my face, lots of purring, and some very interesting dreaming. And maybe I should just go back to that.
And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land.
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