This Petty Pace

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day."
-Macbeth

Currently, I am sitting on a wonderful couch in my best friend's house 11.5 hours away from my home.  Two of my best friends sit with me.  One is writing music, one is writing a paper, and I am sipping Harmony House coffee (...yes...I am...), reading P.G. Wodehouse, musing on life (dangerous, right?), and Monk is playing in the background.

This is the first year of my entire life that I haven't been with my family for Easter, and I miss them dearly; however, I feel so much older now.  I feel as if a storm is looming (summer, specifically, as I didn't get the DC internship I wanted, so much is in the air, and it's possibly the my last summer at home before...whatever is next in my life...), but at the moment I don't care.  I'm completely ignoring it, and it feels great.

I rode a 4-wheeler today for the first time in years.  I recently got my hair cut, but it's getting back to where I like it: shaggy (in fact, a professional bassist I played drums with called me Shaggy for quite some time after we first met...he still does, and I love it).  Anyway, the wind throwing my Ginger mane straight back felt wonderful.

According to Josiah, you can't sing the blues if your only woe is not finding car insurance.  I'm sure DW would agree.

Also according to Josiah at 3am last night (he woke me shaking my leg saying "bro...bro..."), motioning towards the ceiling of the room we're staying in, he dramatically says to me "Bro...this is Luke Smythe."  After which he pulls out his phone and appears to take a selfie (...sadly, he didn't actually take the picture...), before letting his arm drop, falling back into "real" sleep.  Because...apparently...he was asleep that whole time.

Today I'm letting my mind wander everywhere.  Macbeth, 4-wheelers, poetry, Wodehouse, best friends, blues, football, flowers in the lap, blue eyes, Russian studies, grad school, cramped legs from car rides, cramped abs from laughter, new albums from obscure favorite bands, tango music...

I have no new poetry for you.  Perhaps you should write a Scarlequain instead of reading mine.  Yours will probably be better than mine anyway.

Smile today.  Don't ignore the petty pace; tomorrow creeps in faster and faster as we age.