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I’m feeling calmer. The baseboard heater is hissing. It’s cold outside. My feet are naked. I can feel the dampness in the air. I feel hungry. I’m too lazy to cook.
The cat is lounging beside me. He looks regal, like an animated lion.
My face is tingling and my eyes are tired. I’m focused on my writing. The room is warming up. Toasty. I think the word toasty will soon apply.
I’m rambling. I’m free associating. I’m very stoned. I’m present. My mind is on the moment.
There’s a splashing of puddles. I hear it outside. It must be raining. I didn’t know it was supposed to rain. I never checked the weather.
I never watch the news anymore. I’m too busy surviving to read the lives of others. I hope the world is doing well. If more wars break out, will someone please tell me.
I don’t turn my television on anymore. It’s dusty. I should sell it. I should give it away.
I should sell my books, also. They’re a vanity display. It’s silly. What does it matter how many books I’ve read?
Well it does comfort me to see them—an entire wall of reading that shaped my understanding. It shaped my voice. It made me the man I am today. The books stay. It’s settled.
I should eat something. I should shower. I’m still tired. I should nap. I think I’ll smoke a little more. It makes me feel calmer.
The baseboard heater is knocking. The cold in the apartment is fading. I’m naked. I can feel the sheets on my skin. I like it. It’s arousing me. I’m too lazy to move.
The cat is lounging beside me. His tail is wagging. I’m so horny.
I know you’re reading. I’m thinking about you while I do it. It feels so good.
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