It is indeed a new morning!

IT IS INDEED A NEW MORNING! I am sure I had at least seven hours of sleep. The nebulizer is still beside me—super handy in case this allergy-induced asthma irks me again. No, I ain't going to get irksome. Not this morning. The tall trees right in front of my bed, separated only by the huge glass window, are like amiable Titans reassuring me that my spoiled-brat spirits are forever protected and served. Pollens are falling off their arrogant throne of doom! LOL! Yup, I am BFFs with the trees in The Batcave's grounds!

          It is a New Morning. I don't care if I keep on saying, “It is a new morning” each time I wake up before 11 AM, uh huh. Because it is. The Present bestows me with a work checklist where the highlights include watering the front porch hanging plants and walking Georgia The Babedawg and Cyd The Koolcat. When “solving the problems of humanity” with a free peace concert at the park isn't my day-accomplished anymore (or for now) but simple pleasures are. Such as a day with sunshine and rain, waters and fire and air. A new morning.

         Last night, I exchanged sweet text messages with my Rock Star (or as she insists, Rock Moon) TFF or “twin friends forever!” (her word) that culminated with her asking me to send her a recording of my upcoming reading “so I can listen to your voice.” How sweet was that! I am not kidding. She is a rock music personality and just concluded two concerts/shows. And she's also sending me seeds to plant this summer. “Seeds” may as well be metaphorical, inspirational. You reckon?

         Yes, it's a New Morning. When most that matter are your (grown up) daughters and son reassuring you that you are the greatest Papa as you sometimes (well, intermittently) feel sorry for yourself that you are not the President of a country yet at age 55, LOL! or you feel such a whiny failure because you haven't written them a will to your $5 million estate yet, ha! A new morning—that'd be me feeling so good when news that my kids' love-life are doing fine yet not perfect, their kids are sweet and happy, their work and art are continually blossoming, and my lawyer daughter Donna ranting her usual Donna-rants (which means she's more than alright!) I mean she just rested the Sepultura grimness (goth rock) posts with Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66 (“Mas que nada!”) bossanova transcendence. All new morning sweetness!

         But it's all good. It's a New Morning when those little words that I post could make a widow feel good on her waking hours, an older man (fan?) inspired to write his own memoir, a child dreams of “being a pasckie” and oh well the framed poem that I gave my BFF bosschief Cindyrella few Christmasses ago hangs on the kitchen wall, that is cool “It is a new morning” sweetness reminder everyday of my Batcave life, isn't it?

         It is a new morning always. A great day. My soul sister Marta The Nicer took a break from work yesterday and we so did the usual errands, culminating with “Thanks doode! Next time dude!” that we've been saying to each other in the last 15 years of our friendship--as she heads back to her sweetheart. It is a new morning, indeed! Asheville, my city, keeps on changing but I always feel new when as I savor her mountain comfort—like the woman that you love, laying in bed with you, and you softly crawl your hand on her face as she sleeps. Love. I love this city. If only she's a woman right beside me at this moment, then my hands wouldn't be on this laptop—but on some places warm. LOL!

        It is a New Morning. I am sure when I walk back in downtown with my characteristic “lost boy” walk or sit on my favorite deep end corner of a cafe or bar, a random soul will approach me with a smile, “You are Pasckie! The dude who writes the poems!” Yes I am. These make my day, my mornings and nighttimes. My Rock Star days! In between, it's all blessings and gifts and Bee Gees and Cyd and Georgia. And I am still writing love poems in the aftermidnight... Leading to a new new new morning. 

       A NEW MORNING! Good, great Thursday, superhomeys!