Some friends and family think I lead a spartan’s life. Among ascetics, I’m a weird sort. Sure I eat and even bake cakes, but I’ll pass on the movie, again, and what’s wrong with a diet of cereal and chips? Who needs a bed? Washing ziplock bags is as routine as brushing my teeth. No, I can’t watch that show, I’m short on my daily 12 hours of masochism. I can remember times I’ve stayed over with friends and woken up to music. It’s too much to play CDs or the radio on my own (outside the car and my jogs), but once and a while, hearing music fill a space is nice. I’m a 5’2” petite Asian female, rough-shaven bachelor, yo. I get my ambience at the homes of friends and family.
At this suburban hermitage, my mom
Looks after her cats
“Hi Undy, hi Undy,
what, Kathy’s taken your chair?
don’t know about going in that room?
then come along, follow mama,
Kathy doesn't seem to care”
Baby talk can leave you feeling fuzzy
It domesticates
1 comment:
The text part of this at the top is actually one of my favorite poems on this blog.
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