CONFESSIONS

I confess that I do something that I'll call SLOW-MOTION MOUTH,

Or PAUSE THE MOUTH.

I pause my TV, and then move the image forward in slow-motion to see contortions on the mouths of persons speaking.

I know that it's an eccentric quirk.

I guess I should go get some therapy, or go to a rehab center.

In the meantime, I will continue to PAUSE THE MOUTH.

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I like to make noise makers out of empty boxes.

Small boxes work best.

Like those small raisin boxes.

Celebrate!

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I don't remember my last confession in a Catholic church.

On my next one I'll say, “Bless me father, I don't remember when I gave my last confession.”

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As a young boy I searched trash barrels for peanut butter jars, then I ate what was left inside of them.

I know, gross.

I recently read that bacteria doesn't grow easily in peanut butter.

Lucky for me, or I might have died from food poisoning.

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After I learned that Ernest Hemingway didn't wear underwear, I started doing the same.

I think it was only for a few months.

This occurred when I was living on a tropical island.

I also briefly stopped using commercial deodorants.

I know...

Ehhhh.

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When I was living in my cottage at Chautauqua

Park, I took a cat down into the city, thinking it would be a better life for him.

I called him black spring.

(This was when I was reading a lot of Henry Miller.)

Anyway, he returned to my cottage after a week.

He had walked about two miles.

Black spring couldn't meow, but he sure had a good sense of smell, or at least a sense to find his way back to my back door.

IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND CONFESSIONS