I wake at 6:04am. The noise of blackbirds screeching outside the bedroom window wakes me. What the hell, I am up…time for my morning routine.

I wish I could report to you that I begin the day with forty-five minutes of brisk exercise, or that I engage in the enlightened practice of meditation, or even that I just take a shower and get dressed and get all my ducks in a row.

I have done all these things at one point or another, even at times in a routine manner, but this morning, like so many mornings, I am writing and drinking coffee. I guess my inner Fran Lebowitz has taken over my life; now if only she would move me to Manhattan…and pay for it!

If writing were exercise, I would be a world class athlete...I would be Arnold Schwarzenegger; If writing were profitable I would be the Donald Trump of words. I can't believe I just brought up Arnold and Donald in a sentence about writing. What is in this coffee? (I have run out of sweetener…also not good for me…and used a spoon of real sugar…also not good for me… maybe that is the root of this particular evil.

Pizza is a no-no.