Even though I am not hungry when I get up, I try to eat to get me ready for the day. Within an hour of getting up.

The dog lives for the day, the hour, even the moment.

I am an employment hyena. I am happy to make a meal of what the lions leave behind.

I'm most in my element on tour, with a gig that day, like today. I'm on the road where I am supposed to be. I will be where I'm supposed to be at nighttime, on stage, in front of people, doing my thing.

I am waiting impatiently for the day when beleaguered, like-minded academics can order James Wolcott's collected essays for their classes.

I am getting so far out one day I won't come back at all.