Sweatpants

I have given up. There is no one left to impress. There is no > than this. In fact, I'm not even worried about treading water. If I slide down the hill a little bit, I'm fine with that. Before long I'll be showering every other day.

I'm wearing shoes, not sneakers but not yet boots. I bought them off of the discount rack at Target. I carry a small notebook that I mostly use to make lists of things I have not done. My glasses are big. Not thick; big. I wear shirts with hoods on them, and strings that I chew on when I'm alone.

I sometimes smell earthy. Earthy, in a bad way. I have a beard, not because I want one, but because I don't not want one.

I went to a bar once that was painted red. I no longer go to bars, unless you count The Bar at the restaurant where I sometimes eat breakfast, when I want something hot.

(And sometimes, I do count it.)

There were photographs hung in this bar and they were black and white. Some of them were hung upside down--maybe two--because that is an artful and mysterious thing to do. There were christmas lights, all one color, because that is also artful, if not especially mysterious. But like I said, I do not go to bars anymore.

Mostly I watch reruns of television dramas. I like it when, on the weekends, they show two episodes of the same show in a row. It's like watching a movie where nothing of any great importance happens to anyone, and at the end they are left standing alone and thinking about how things have happened to them, but nothing of any great importance.

I do that too.