If you have only one smile in you, give it to the people you love. Don't be surly at home, then go out in the street and start grinning "Good morning" at total strangers.
--Maya Angelou

Someone should have given this advice to my father. My brother, and I, used to marvel at what an angry, depressed, mean, old man my old man was in the house, and then how he would light up to be the happy Irish man, the minute he got out the door, and got around other people. My dad had a lot of issues, and he took them out on us. Oh well, he had a lot of good points, too. I’m sure that he did the best that he could with what he was given. My job is to not point a finger at him, anymore, but to not to be that way myself, and to not pass on the behaviors to my kids. Rip my father. I thank you for the good things that you gave me, the good things that you taught me. I apologize for the shitty things that I did to you. I was not the perfect child that you sought. I’ll be where you are, one day, part of everything, again, and while I am still here, I want to have a smile on my face, in the house, and out.

Atlanta Musician, Olin Rainwater, passed yesterday. Olin was an amazing musician, an amazing husband, and an amazing father. I used to visit Olin often, when we lived across the driveway from each other, on Dixie Ave. Olin would play his songs for me for hours. He was an amazing song writer, and guitar player. He will be sorely missed by his wonderful wife, Sloan Carroll Rainwater, and his son Nigel. Olin is playing guitar, right now, with his hero Jimi Hendrix in Heaven. God rest his soul. We love you Olin, and we miss you. Thank you for all the joy that you brought into our lives.

Our House

She likes to check the mail, as do I.

She likes to cut the lawn, which is good,

because I don’t.

She loves to cook. I love to eat.

We both raked the yard, this afternoon.

She likes to make me my coffee.

I love coffee, and I love that she loves

to make it for me.

Neither of us much cares about driving.

It is so crazy out there.

She loves her dog.

I love my dogs.

Her dog has become my dog,

and my dogs have become her dogs.

The cats have remained independent

though we both feed them.

She likes my frog, and my turtle.

I wonder what they see?

One of my cats knocked my alarm clock radio to the floor, off of my night stand, for the second time, last night, in the middle of the night, while I was sleeping. I just left the clock on the floor. I could see the time from my bed, and I figured that, maybe, three times I would be out, and the clock would be broken the next time one of the cats decided to take over. It’s an old clock, but I still like it. It is one of those Sony Dream Machines. It has cd player in it that still works. I am not going to let my cats fuck up my dream machine. The cats like to take over the table because it is next to a window. You should see them go crazy, fighting over that open window. Cats love to sit by the window, and stare out at the world.

A small piece of shit

I have walked past this thing on the floor of the extra bathroom for two, or three days. Until just now, I thought that it was a dirty ole leave, but on my last visit to this facility, I got the feeling that it was a small piece of shit.

--Mikel K

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I hope you have love

It is Saturday morning. We make love. She makes coffee. I drop a couple of live crickets into my frog’s box, turn on my turtle’s light, feed the dogs, and feed the cats. We ‘re trying to beat The Gas Company, so we have the heat turned down enough, in the house, that I need to use a space heater in my office. The heat feels good. The day feels good. I am glad to be here. I am glad to be alive. I have heard it said that, as you age, you become more at peace with the world, less angry. This is a good thing. I can feel it happening to me. Love is a good thing. I hope you have love.

--Mikel K

Nov. 9, 2012 

It’s Friday in Mableton, Ga., and the parking lot at the K Mart-Dollar Store Parking lot is full of large American pickup trucks driven by Mexicans. We have come here to buy milk. I have my milk habit down to just a tablespoon, or so, every once in a while in my hot tea, and, now, I am out. K Mart’s milk is a dollar more than it costs at all the surrounding grocery stores, so on principal I head out. As we left, we priced a funky plastic tree, and then laughed: no tree this year. We price a gift for the grandkids, and laughed. No expensive presents for the grandkids this year. We find a small milk for a buck, at the dollar store, but when I get to the front there is only one lane open, and the lady who would have been in front of me has left no room for anything else: her cart is filled to the top. I just didn’t feel like waiting through all that to get some milk, so I said fuck it and we went home.

--Mikel K