While I awoke, after a long and fantastic night, at sometime shortly after eleven a.m.  Being behind in my feeding schedule I hastily made a brief breakfast.  That was to hold me over as I made a rather large elevenses meal.  I took to my arduous task while playing Bob Dylan's 1964 concert, which began with "The Times They Are A Changin.'" With the tunes in the background I then proceeded to do something I had not attempted since I last cooked it and set it on fire:  I fried bacon.  I read T.S.Eliot as I cooked and ate, naturally.  After the bacon was done I then scrambled eggs with ham and (with my secret recipe) put them in the bacon fat.  I made toast, again with no fire, I poured orange juice and made a cup of dark Colombian coffee to top it all off. 
"The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble, where the glass Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines From which a golden Cupidon peeped out (Another hid his eyes behind his wing) Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra Reflecting light upon the table as The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it, From satin cases poured in rich profusion." I read this and ate (T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land," Lines 77-85).  Now my thoughts turn to lunch...

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