cheese and crackers

The sun sets and I hide the day in the civilised rituals of wine, cheese and crackers... still in bed of course.

Because the world goes on outside and I know that as I grow, like all others, older, one day in a hive of activity I will look back on this Sunday and remark in disgust of the wasted hours and added calories, the shame for this grotesque animal in hiding. But right now, I simply can't be fucked.

Not there yet

In bed til late morning with somebody reading Foucault reading Kant reading all that came before him all served with a generous portion of birthday Tiramisu in a silent, empty, vacant, non-judging, cold house occupied by a bed with a mattress and a number of blankets above and below the one with the holiday 'tude rendered warm, somewhat sweet and somewhat flabby and all round happy as for whom the bell tolls, tis not for thee, not for anyone. For today, still a holiday, she can suspend the belief that we, we are... not free?