Today I decided to take the time to document my day, as the events unfolded.
This — is my story.
Either the sun came up, my position on this planet rotated into view of the light, or something magical decided to end the darkness from the night before. How it became to be day is both a mystery and proven by the scientific minds of many who hold firm beliefs. Regardless of all these mind blowing peculiarities, portions of the meat and juices which make up parts of who I am unintentionally forced me to open my eyes and reenter reality, stripping away a world forgotten the instant I was forced to leave.
Now I am here.
Where am I?
On a bed I did not make, for it was too soon.
Before escaping the firm grips of the warmth and comfort I had somehow experienced without my knowledge for the many hours prior, I came to the conclusion I had no idea what day it was or why it mattered. All I knew was I'd soon be leaving that location so I could relieve myself in another location after getting the call from the wild.
A few steps away but behind two walls was a bowl of fresh water destined to be polluted by what at one point would have made a great picture, until I devoured everything plated utilizing the bones my face harbors inside of a fleshy hole I did not dig.
What were once glorious trees swaying to and fro — stirred by the winds of my future and former breath — sat snugly on an apparatus designed to hold a role of temporary but necessary relief from getting stains on my garments. The very same necessary effects soon ready to be placed nonchalantly within a basket of its kind, so they can wait patiently for their moment to shine on the day known as Laundry.
Entering my own personal waterfall but not until the temperature was just right involved several twists of the knob most take for granted.
I admired my knob.
The shampoo bottle does not say when to quit. This mantra of lather, rinse, repeat would turn anyone who's good at following directions into a standing sea creature of no purpose other than clean.
Deciding to end the vicious cycle after two revolutions seemed like the right thing to do as I found myself once again staring at my knob, wondering if then was the time to give it another twist but in the opposite direction of my current life circumstance.
A sheet of folded material designed to remove excess liquid from the surface of my meat and juices was then applied. It smelled of the washing machine additives that propel us away into a temporary field full of flowers and singing birds through the power of odor, until it was time to snap back into the reality of my own life choices.
Staring at my face staring back at me was nothing unusual, once again. Hair was everywhere except where it should have been so I then spent time asking each and every one of these dead creatures to abide by my rules, or face the consequences only something sharp can deliver.
Finally.
I can wake up after all this time to a warm cup of regularly scheduled beverage containing the legal drugs my meat and juices cannot fathom functioning without.
Someone had already placed a convenient handle upon my vessel of nourishment so I thanked nobody aloud for keeping my hand safe from burn injuries, then took the steps leading outside making sure to not spill a drop, thanking myself for removing obstacles on the way out the door the day before after tripping over a shoe, for the last time.
Ah yes. Nature and the unnatural deck where I shall place my morning thoughts. Hello world. I'm home.
The time to think about my day is upon me as I slowly sip my drugs but not too slow or it'll get cold.
What's next? What should I do today?
After observing several different species of the life that surrounds me and only squishing one, the cup was empty. Though still feeling unprepared for a new revolution, the knowledge gained from the shampoo bottle was enough to convince me two cups would be better than one.
Rinse and repeat.
Now I sit, minutes later on a day with no plan, wondering where I'll take me next.
The laptop. Surely I'll find something to do if I open my laptop.
Deciding to document my day was the only plan I could come up with.
Now I must sit here and wait for something extraordinary to happen because so far the day has been like every other, so this should be good.
Three hours later.
Still morning but getting close to noon. No longer feeling like documenting my day after realizing I have nothing to say about the events since the events didn't happen. Life was late to the party, once again.
What else...
It has been about five months since I last paid attention. I wonder what's new in crypt... oh my god! Bacon wrapped tokens with cute little w's and something about defi I can't defy. NFT's? Ninja Fucking Turtles? I thought they said this was going to be easier in a few years, a few years ago. By the time I learn, I'll be too late, for all I am is a lonely flummoxed artist on the day nothing happened in a world addicted to making things hard.
Who are you?!
