i forgot to do my daily calisthenics this morning,
when i stretch and do a few jumping jacks and squats so that my body knows
that it’s awake and hopefully won’t feel as old and creaky as my mind does sometimes,
like now, right at this very second, i feel the oldest i’ve ever been,
because i guess i am
spotify got confused on what music to recommend for me to listen to next,
probably because i like to listen to coltrane after i listen to el-p and tupac
before going into an hour long listening session of aerosmith and chicago,
then manchester orchestra, then leos janacek, a little bit of bach,
with the final touch of mountain goats and sex pistols to round out my music-listening day,
after which, i must admit, i am a bit exhausted
surprisingly, i have responsibilities that i’ve been entrusted to take care of,
though it’s nothing really major,
in fact, most of my responsibilities are pretty boring and i’d rather not do them,
so i write this procrastination poem rather than actually do them,
and in a way, that kinda means i did them,
or one of them, at least
Fred Aiken Writing 