Tuesday, September 27, 2005


I'm not a morning person.

Many of you who have seen me in the morning can attest to the fact that I look like someone who's just emerged from a four year coma. The morning is such a traumatic time for my body.

It's sort of like being born, being forced through some awful birth canal into the harsh light of consciousness.

To start with, I need to stretch. I need to itch in a manly fashion. Then there's the big yawn (which may even become a squeal). I stumble out of my bed, wrestle my way into some clothes and begin the arduous task of preparing breakfast. This usually consists of coffee and cereal most days of the week.

This morning I really wanted breakfast. I mean I was ravenous for some reason. And as I gingerly carried my coco pops to the TV for my morning Futurama fix, all I could think was

"Oh my God! I love breakfast cereal!! I love breakfast! Could this possibly be the best day of my life!?!?"

And that was a good time to sashay into the Futurama theme song!!

I've been trying once again to remember to reconnect once in a while. I think it's important to not be in concrete and glass surroundings all the time. Sometimes I get caught up in the minutiae of every day. Existing but not really living.

My last break at work I sat alone in the glorious sun, transfixed by a bee trying to impregnate a flower (or whatever it is they do to flowers).

I sat there for a whole ten minutes, remembering that I lived in a world in which grass and trees grow and animals are always trying to fuck.

the end.


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