18 Feb
I got roughly an hour and a half of sleep. Would have been more had I had enough sense to go sleep in an actual bed and not on the couch, which is in the same room as a clock that chimes triumphantly every fifteen minutes. What the hell is the point of a clock that chimes every fifteen minutes? To remind you of the tedium of not being dead?
Anyway, this day should be an interesting day.
As the pickers rifle through dusty junk in dilapidated barns with corrugated metal roofs, I see an entire way of life that has all but evaporated.
Hi Neighbor, Just a friendly request to PLEASE PUT THOSE LEAVES BACK ON THE TREES WHERE THEY BELONG, AND STOP LEAVING THEM ON THE CURB.
As I watched my mom look over the orchestra of plants she had been nursing for years and years, choosing which ones to pass on to me, I realized that she is passing a torch to me.
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What the hell is the point of a clock that chimes every fifteen minutes? To remind you of the tedium of not being dead?
it’s interesting that you should ask this question, because I had a roommate in Berkeley once upon a time who had a chiming clock. I told him that I really didn’t like his chiming clock because it made me think about death. He thought I was crazy. Now I feel validated.
Well, you’re still crazy. We both are. :)