story

The day is wasted unless you waste it. and by waste I mean run around like there's something there. Something that springs up like an amish barn, reassuring you the hard work has paid off. But there's no barn, no wood, no tools, no extensive and highly skilled in barn raising family. Only strenuous, timed and scheduled chaos.
Seven o'clock and I'm awake already, like one of pavlov's dogs a honed subconcious alarm I don't hear and someone else turns off keeps this body frail, strained, attentive.