NP: John Cage, 4'33" (drums and bass remix)

Slogging it out here in Northfield after a long Tuesday night, and this little ditty I jotted down yesterday seems ever the more appropriate:

ODE TO COFFEE

Brown and hot and in my cup
When I'm down I eat it up
I mean that figuratively of course
You could eat the beans that are the source
Of a brew potent and strong
It keeps me from doing things wrong
Like plowing headlong into a truck
Because that would really, truly suck

Granted, not quite as inspired as certain other odes certain other friends have written recently, but again, really exhausted.

Last night we played back-to-back soccer games, beating the other cellar-dweller in the league for the privelege to get right back out on the field and take on the first-place team. Who we then beat as well, although it was touch and go toward the end when I managed to not get called for bringing someone down in the box. Score one for referee sympathy, as I'm nice enough to them (yellow card in the first match notwithstanding) that they respect me. Plus, I fell to the ground and writhed in pain to make it look less intentional.

Then on to Vaughan's for celebration and a Coz Sings! set that included Billy Idol, David Lee Roth and Duran Duran, and Afrodisiacs unplugged, which was sort of interesting. And fun.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled workday. Or I return me. Or something.