[Danny Himself]

I wake up in my lovely wooden house in Washington state to the sounds of crows cawing, and the sun creeping slowly up thru the treetops outside. I get up, grab a cup of orange juice out of the fridge, set it down on the kitchen table, and walk outside. The paper has just come, so I pick it up and shake all the ads out into my trashcan. There's some mail, so I grab that and walk back into the house.

I drink the O.J slowly as I open all my mail. There's a couple of checks- one's from the book publisher, and one's come from the record company. Neither are whopping big millionaire checks, but it's enough, and I'm earning just as much as the Office Slave next door. There's a sample of Bold detergent, which I might as well keep and use.

I finish the O.J while reading the newspaper. I flick on the TV see how the weather is today. There's been another SUV crash on the I-5. War is still going on, and I can't do much about that, so I'm not going to write an album protesting human nature. Men like to blow shit up. As long as it's not me, I don't really pay much attention to it.

Did I mention I live alone? No, I didn't. I haven't been married yet and I have no kids. But who's to worry? I have pretty much my whole life ahead of me, right? I am busy cleaning up other people's messes, and of course, my own. I finish soaking up the early morning information and go down to the study room or whatever, which is basically my room now, sans a bed. I check my emails, myspace (so what) and various blogs I like to read.

I leave to noodle about with my sound equipment. I am basically a writer and I have a band, though after the tour now, each band member has gone solitary to rest and reflect. I don't touch the guitar, because I've had enough of it for now. I have run out of ideas, and that sort of worries me.

It's almost noon now, so I go and shower, get dressed. I begin to make some lunch. Just a ham sandwich, maybe a bit of mustard. Some grape juice to wash it all down. Thats the ticket. It's Katie's birthday soon, and I have a good gift for her. I set about wrapping it and such. I have no idea what to put on the tag. It will come to me later, I suppose. I have always been wary of putting 'Love, Danny' on things, even when I'm writing to my parents or my sister.

It's raining outside now, but only a little. It's sorta chilly, even for May. The doorbell rings. Ding, dong. I never thought to get a custom doorbell, because the standard one is so clichéd and American that I love it. I walk to the door, with those morning eyes, even though it's almost 2pm. A section of my door is glass, though distorted glass- I can see a woman outside though. I can't have her standing in the rain.

I open the door. To my suprise, it's Katie. 'Hello!' she says, looking sorta timid, as if she expects me to go 'what the fuck are you doing here?'. I return the hello and invite her inside. I shake the rain off of her coat and hang it up, and follow her into the kitchen. She doesn't really know where she's going in my house.

'This is the kitchen..' I say as I walk in after her. She's looking at it intently, seemingly sorta-suprised with it. She has always had a fantasy of drinking tea with me, and I have always had some teabags saved for such an occasion. I pour her a simple cup of tea. She must be cold. I sit down at the table and she hesitates, looks up, past the ceiling, and looks God in the eyes. Something's troubling her. I invite her to sit down, and she does.

I ask her why she's all the way over here in Seattle. Shopping? Show? Zoo?. 'I don't really have the money for any of those..' she mumbles. 'I got fired today'. She's a journalist. I just say 'Oh'. I never really thought it was the best job for her. She's not the journalist type. Even if she just writes about cooking in the health pages. I read her column and try to make some of her recipes, but I'm not the rabbit food kinda guy.

She looks down into her tea and her hair covers up her face. 'Why?' I ask straightforwardly, breaking the comfortable silence. 'Apparently I'm just not what they're looking for,' she says, 'they just told me to clean out my office when I turned up at work today'. I'm sorry, even if I didn't think it was the right job for her. 'Sorry'. She inhales and exhales loudly, but it's not a sigh. 'I dunno... I guess maybe it wasn't the best job for me anyway. I don't think I applied myself to the work very well'.

'I thought you were doing great,' I say, getting up and going over to the cupboards. 'Mehh...' she drawls, 'thinks having been going so great for me anyway. I have to move out of my apartment now because the bills and rent are just getting so much. I was going to ask my dad if I could move back into his house, but I have so much stuff, and,' there's a silence, '...yeah'.

I walk over to her and hand her the cookie jar. 'I have a fold-out couch, and there's like a whole empty basement you can put all your stuff in,' I say as she bits into a cookie. She looks like she might stay. '...I could get coloring books!' I enthusiatically shout. That seals the deal. I show her where she can sleep. She ends up sleeping in my bed, and I sleep on the fold-out couch bed.

That evening we cook Spaghetti and Meatballs, combining my man-child hunger and her cooking skills. It's all a very warm affiar, and the lights keep everything cosy and give everything a sort of Spain-like quality. We talk about old times, listen to my records, and I show her all of my music equipment. She knows I got what I always wanted and she's happy for me.

'Leah's still on the music scene' she says. I remember when Leah was a hardcore anti-bush punk. 'Oh yeah?' I ask. 'Yeah, but she's not in Cricketbat Militia anymore though. She's got her own band. They're really good'. I want to know more, I wanna tour with her, I wanna make her a star. 'I should jam with her' I say, but Katie and I both know that wouldn't work out.

Evening draws in, and we laze about on separate couches, watching the Red Dward DVDs I had bought her for her birthday (I decided to let her open them early). She makes some phonecalls as I clean around the house, and I hear her talking to Claire, Brandon, and all the others who slipped through my fingers. She's talking about me, and I didn't think she would bring me up.

She thanks me, and we share a goodnight hi-five in the hallway before we retire to our separate beds for the night.

This, believe it or not, is my perfect day. Lazy, with a bit of company. It's not extravagant or sexual, because I've had days like this, and they are certainly the most enjoyable. Good friend, good food, good times.