god help me it's 6:30, i'm up i'm up i'm up. it's even light out annd the garbage trucks and creaky septa trolleys are bitchily thanging all over the block. my roommate's alarm clock woke up and so did i and i'm following its example, especially since i didn't do my mgmt rough draft yet. easy enough. but (just ate the breakfast banana) it's not like listening to goldberg variations at this hour can inspire you to write anything but the demure ache in your legs from another cramped night, the monet-ish reflection of sun and tree off the one way glass that may be the inn at penn because you have no sense of direction in this treehaus, the bareness of your tile floor, the goosebumps on your t-shirted arm, the lights still on in the parking garage. and thinking "well that's enough documenting that for a year." somehow snow seems like a good idea. the roommate going for a jog. why?!

"i'll never make my bed again!"