Woke up today before my alarm. I lay there til the thing went off and filled my modest home with depression-era jazz, as played by Columbia's radio station. (they play a great variety of music, and of course, no commercials, check 'em out http://www.studentaffairs.columbia.edu/wkcr/) I felt like I had a great night's sleep.
I got up and made myself egg whites, whole wheat toast and turkey bacon. Face got washed, eye gunk was removed. I lit a candle and left three droplets of blood on my shrine to Kali, who's indulgence allows me to continue my work, per the agreement we made which I am not at liberty to discuss.
I packed a bag (watching my cousin's place in the city for the next four days) and promised myself a great morning.
Was not out the door four seconds before I was dizzy and sleepy. I could have made a bed on the pile of breadcrumbs my neighbor leaves for the pigeons, perhaps knocking out one of the flying disease rats and using him for my pillow. I soldiered on, but this raised a disconcerting thought.
Am I just inherently lazy? Is it not just my attitude, but even my physical disposition to seek rest when I have had plenty? Is it genetic? There were people that had already bicycled fifty miles or wrestled a lightly sedated alligator by the time I shuffled out the door, yet I almost can't be bothered.
I haven't drank caffeinated beverages regularly for months. Long story.
Fell off the wagon today. I am finishing a large iced coffee as I write this, and I can here the strains of Lou Reeds 'Heroin' as I sink into the gentle lull before blasting into the fifth dimension. In a moment, I will be able to see time and touch sound.
Way to get old, body. Way to need chemicals.
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