sunrise after sunset, unwashed sheets, pack after pack of tobacco, scouring change for food and gas and other means to extend the weekend past reasonable timeframes. never truly sleeping, but drifting in and out of slumber as the noises of others keep my consciousness alive. bedtimes are mornings and mornings are afternoons. houses and apartments decorated not by redundant furnishings but by the souls of the people who fill them up. trips to drive-throughs and gas stations are really mere excuses to sing in the car without hesitation or shame. all my clothes in backpacks and bags, serving as my mobile closet from place to place. by no means conventional or ostentatious, you sneer at its laughable simplicity, but i don't find it an agonizing flaw. the rhythm and repetition of my existence causes you exasperation which i will gladly accept. brand me as predictable, irrelevant. this is what i know and love.