Member-only story
It is 6:23am in Austin, Texas as I write this. The 16th of December.
I woke up this morning in a fairly typical amount of pain. I amusingly reflect, of course, that I needed a “hit” of Tesla.
I got out of bed, threw on whatever clothes covered me reasonably well — at the time it was a little past five, so the boxes of who’s gonna see me? who’s gonna care? were delightfully checked with clothes I’m sure I already wore — though I’d never be able to tell you which days in the past week.
Sweats. I’m sure it was. a sweatshirt, plain, over nothing. blue, and grey, respectively. lying on the floor halfway through the bathroom door or so I guess without checking.
I suppose I’ll go turn off the light and fan in the bathroom. I left them on after taking an overly hot bath just a minute ago…
…or perhaps it wasn’t ‘overly’ hot. It got me writing this, after all, and this is for Tesla.
It’s for Athena. The goddess of my driveway. Without whom I’m sure I would not be alive right now.
i’m sure this is what alive actually feels like it has to be.only feeling this alive would stop me short of waiting to determine the correct punctuation and wording of anything I might write here, if I had my own and only my own choice
I wouldn’t care, for example, that I was making it hard for other people to understand what I do, what I think, and what I say. I wouldn’t be so desperately trapped behind a wall that someone else…
