I’ve just tucked in to another Vonnegut, his unique views on life abound in everything he writes and they always leave an impression, this is fantastic;

I have had some experiences with love, or think I have, anyway, although the ones I have liked the best could easily be described as ‘common decency’. I treated somebody well for a little while, or maybe even for a tremendously long time, and that person treated me well in return. Love need not have anything to do with it.
Also: I cannot distinguish between the love I have for people and the love I have for dogs.
When a child, and not watching comedians on film or listening to comedians on the radio, I used to spend a lot of time rolling around on rugs with uncritically affectionate dogs we had.
And I still do a lot of that. The dogs become tired and confused and embarrassed long before I do. I could go on forever.
Hi Ho.

– Slapstick or Loneseom No More,
Kurt Vonnegut,
1976.

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This weather we’ve had of late, and a couple of good ‘al fresco’ breakfasts reminded me of this quote;

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 chillies, a Spanish omlette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, a chopped lemon for random seasoning, and something like a slice of key lime pie, two margartias 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 the hot sun, and prefereably stone naked.

Jimmy Carter and the Great Leap of Faith,
Hunter S. Thompson,
1976.

So there you go, that’s how you enjoy breakfast!