The French and Not So French Iggy!

Yes. I mess with my chemistry (see previous post), daily. A friend of mine once read years of my posts (I don't recommend it), and said to me: "You write about coffee a lot." It's true. If I have one major, go-to ingredient, I guess it would have to be caffeine. Not sure if it's good or bad for me, but it definitely, moves me. When I first awake, especially after a crazy, long, weekend, (On Sunday, I performed at an event - I was the sound-tech, the MC, and in the opening band, plus I did set-up and take-down, pre and post show - totally exhausting!), I'm sort of in that Dawn of Dead, Zombie-State: Pure JimmyDumps. Then after a few sips of my magic elixir, I am slowly, but surely, animated once again: SunnyJimmy comes to life.

I remember reading a collection of Jack Kerouac letters, and there's one where he discovered coffee for the first time. It set him afire, and led to a mad flurry of writing. I wish Kerouac would have stuck to coffee, instead, he moved onto harder stuff, ended up in a long alcoholic-haze for his last decade or so.

The sun is shining this morning, and my eyes are sparkling. There is optimism in the air, even if that optimism is just my own private, crazy, invention, and only emanates from my own swirling, over-caffeinated consciousness. I am listening to Iggy Pop's French album; Iggy said his record label rejected it because his fans didn't want to hear him croon, they wanted him to rock, but, you know, on a quiet Tuesday morning, sun streaming through curtains, Iggy crooning in French feels just right. It's a short album, so I move onto Iggy & the Stooges "Fun House," just to goose the energy a bit. It's an all-Iggy kind of morning. The French and the Not So French Iggy. Both go well with coffee and sunshine.