I could stare at that photo below for an inappropriately long time. It’s evocative and in-someone-else’s-moment-ish and makes me want to meet a man in trunks.
Mornings. Spent writing. Calmly. Alone. In sun. Yep.
I came across this rundown by Hunter S Thompson of his morning routine. Morning routine’s are key to life, I’ve come to learn. I’ve shared mine and others before. But this ode lifts my spirit:
“I like to eat breakfast alone, and almost never before noon;
anybody with a terminally jangled lifestyle needs at least one psychic anchor every twenty-four hours, and mine is breakfast.
In Hong Kong, Dallas, or at home—and regardless of whether or not I have been to bed—breakfast is a personal ritual that can only be properly observed alone, and in a spirit of genuine excess. The food factor should always be massive: four Bloody Marys, two grapefruits, a pot of coffee, Rangoon crêpes, a half-pound of either sausage, bacon, or corned-beef hash with diced chilies, a Spanish omelette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, a chopped lemon for random seasoning, and something like a slice of key lime pie, two margaritas and six lines of the best cocaine for dessert…Right, and there should also be two or three newspapers, all mail and messages, a telephone, a notebook for planning the next twenty-four hours, and at least one source of good music…all of which should be dealt with outside, in the warmth of a hot sun, and preferably stone naked.”
PS, I’m pretending I haven’t read the cocaine bit and the margaritas bit. I choose to ignore it.
I take home the psychic anchor factor. My lifestyle is terminally jangled…I survive only if I take out a wedge of time to anchor myself with time, space and aloneness. It has to be done as a routine, so that I remember to do it. Because when you’re terminally jangled you tend to forget. Mornings work best for me. My launchpad. I then try to take it away with me.
Psychically anchored…are you? Do you value it enough in your life right now?
