Life has basically allowed to dampen itself on itself. I’m slowly allowing myself to remember that visual sketch from the forever passed on joke about how the Italian farmer can tell the time by weighing the balls of his donkey. The joke is funnier.
And I know I need water. Bloatness from all the banana and tapioca crisps that I keep shoving into my mouth for no reason at all.
And I need the bed. Some tenderness would be nice.