I’m not really a morning person, as hard as I try it’s just not me. I prefer the night (Let’s Talk about the Birds and the Owls), it’s the time to write. I guess it’s against my nature to fall asleep. I’d rather stay up late and sleep in. And that is how it is, for me. I remember brewing a full pot of coffee at midnight with my brother when we lived on Alta Mira. We wanted to stay up all night. We laughed at the color of our pee. We watched Police Academy 1, 2, and 3 (I don’t think there was a four yet). We didn’t make it to the sunrise, or through the pot of coffee for that matter, but rest assured we slept in.
But I suppose there is something to say about the morning. Once “there,” it’s a magical place. In the wee hours of the day there is a similar stillness that invites you in; there’s an opportunity for reflection in the quiet calm before the day begins. And if you are lucky, there is frost. I love frost. It’s your time-keeper. When it starts to recede into the shadows, you know it is time to kick into gear and get the real day started. I supposed frost is similar to Conan O’Brien, back when he was on after Jay Leno. Once Conan’s hair flopped through the monologue, it was really time to go to bed because the morning was on its way. After the alarm, though, came a nice big cup of coffee to keep the engine running until the night returned.