Not so sure about this business of being awake.

Suit up.

Show up.

Sounds like grown-folk business, and that’s never come easily. Not that being a kid was ever easy but it’s easy to forget shit that happened in another lifetime.

Whose lifetime?

Mine?

I do wonder sometimes. Everything seems so long ago now, when I’m awake anyway. Sometimes when I’m not awake someone or something, a ghost maybe, will visit and it’s no mystery that it’s mine. Then I’m awake and it’s maybe something from a book or a movie, or a story that someone told me sometime way back when. It’s distant. Detached…

Detached.

I’m weary of being awake and it’s not even 8. The alarm woke me this morning. That’s rare. My feet are usually on the pavement before it sounds. Today? No. It may have been wailing away for a while. Hard to tell.

I’m dog-tired, whatever that means. My dog wakes from a full, snoring sleep, shakes for a few seconds, and starts to bounce. No transition. No worries. Asleep then awake and then bouncing like a pinkie coming off a playground wall. I need to be dog-tired. I need to bounce back.

Deadline week?. Nah, I’m just tired. There is always a deadline when you’re over 50 anyway. You only get so many mornings, you know. This isn’t an all you can eat brunch. No bottomless mimosas.

Anyway, I’m trying to push out some feelings here. There’s something blocked up behind them. A high spiritual colonic is in order.