Hello Day After Christmas.  I am 28 years old today, and kind of drunk.  It’s 3pm and it’s a soggy mush out there, and boy, hearing your voice fresh from sleep reminded me of that downstairs bedroom and how thoroughly I’ve slept in it.  I remember the smell of it and more precisely, the smell of you.  Even though I now have the permacold and smell nothing, at the same time I smell everything.

I spent the holiday season being a jerk, but it’s only fitting, I reckon.  It’s an appropriate capper to an autumn spent being a drunk. Remember when we all used to be just younger and our backs so much more slick, so much more invitation for rolling off? It’s nice to be older, to be more trustworthy and assured.  

Remember 2000, when cars were going to fly and there was no such thing as everything? That was nine years ago.  A decade has expired and we’re still glorifying the nineties.  At some point today I will go out into the grey sopping and I will like it, even though it does no favors for my complexion.