Hazy Morning Dew

It’s another gray one, another dank ass day.

My brain feels fuzzy but something tells me this one’s got to be reflective.

This one needs to be the kinda day…

The kind where you get your shit together.


Spent all morning locked in the bedroom, curtains dark and drawn. Minimal light, that’s my bedroom philosophy. Sounds sad, does it not? Everything in the bedroom dark and serious and business-like… sounds sad… But it isn’t sad. It’s ehhh… how should we say — it is liberating.

There’s not much reason for light in there these days. Who the fuck needs light when darkness is such a faithful and loyal companion? There’s no lack of volunteers putting their cards in the hat in hope of brightening things up… alas there is such a chasm void of lack of desire. I don’t want their mediocre sex. I don’t need their fleeting love. It’s so grimey and awkard. Sycophant men trying to get laid. So pitiful and hard to respect. And how do you get busy with a man whom warrants no respect? It is, I fear, impossible!

The older you get the more you realize how depthless it all is, for the most part. The easier it becomes to hold out for never, if the time goes on that far. Maybe next year? Ah, but maybe never. And you become OK with that. The alternative so clearly seen: it is so much goddamn work.


I have things to do today, like laundry and things. These are important things. Minimalism goal must be achieved, not too much longer now to achieve it.

Because I don’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of meaningless rubbish in any respect or any context.


I could use new pillows though. These are beat up. Not presentable for the people who I never invite over. Ha!


2019 me is not so far from the person who started this thing, so so long ago. 🙂

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