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Fifty years is a long time. OK, maybe not as long as seventy or eighty. It, is, however, still a long time. A sort of milestone in life. I never thought I’d make it to fifty. As melodramatic and cliche as that sounds, it is the truth. My lifestyle had much to do with that misguided thought on my mortality.

This series will be a weekly look at some of the things I have learned about myself, the people around me (in general terms) and life.  They are in no particular order, so if you are the subject of one of my lessons and you feel that it should be more important that something else, too fucking bad. Get over yourself. Fact is, I really should have made notes prior to starting this series because I am now doubting that I have may have learned fifty things. Bah, who cares?

Courtesy  Robbert van der Steeg - Wikimedia Creative Commons

Courtesy Robbert van der Steeg – Wikimedia Creative Commons

Here we go: I am a morning person. As much as I hate to admit it, I am. I love the early morning, the sunrise, the quiet hour, the golden hour. I can sit back and listen to my world awake. I am not one of those perky morning people, NO. Even I, a self confessed, morning person, would love to punch them in their smiling cake hole and yell; “would you please, please shut the fuck up for five minutes? I do not wish to hear how your cat licked your toes (or some other nonsense).”

I get my best, in most cases, work done prior to ten or eleven in the morning. I write better. I think better. I visualize better and, my mind is at it’s creative peak. I seem to formulate creative ideas better in the morning. Why? I don’t know. I just go with it. In fact, after lunch, I am a wreck. I am drawn, drained and drowsy. I think I even fall asleep at my desk. I mean, my eyes are open but my brain falls asleep. Or, maybe my eyes are closed. I’m not quite sure, I just seem to lose gaps of time. Well, at the very least, it makes the day go faster.

I was a morning person even when I pulled all nighters. Of course, ingesting copious amounts of LSD or Amphetamine didn’t hurt my early morning crusades, at least, I don’t think they did.

I loved listening to jazz at three, four or five. Not the digital jazz we have, but vinyl. The hiss and pop of that LP as the stylus hit the vinyl. Awww yea.

If I was concerned about whether I had learned fifty things in the first paragraph, the last few has triggered more. And more will be revealed.

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