Bookmark #905

On a lovely Saturday morning, I slept in, woke up, and decided to stay in bed listening to music. I had my coffee in bed. And then, I had another cup in bed still. I read a little—a few articles, a letter, and a poem. That is all I did all morning; of course, I replied to a few messages here and there. And then, I reckon it was time to begin the day. At some point, we must all start. That much is true. And until then, nothing was real. Nothing ever is real till you’re not out of bed. We are only people in the waking world. We are only real when we are out and about and walking and making jokes. I would know. I have realised that in many situations, the only thing in my purview is making an ill-timed joke and that I cannot physically resist a terrible pun that has made its way to my mind is both a blessing and a curse and brings about wildly varying results with a wide variety of subjects and situations. But regardless, I began the day and became a person, got a haircut, had conversations here and there, and made small talk with the building guard who barely understands a word but does his job well, and then, I watched some TV and ate a little bit, and before I knew it, the lovely morning had turned into a delightful afternoon. And then, I made some calls about things that needed fixing, and on each call, I held the phone for as long as they kept me holding, and annoying as it was, I did not give grief to the person trying to help me. To my surprise, most things were fixed or resolved. It is a Saturday. We only get this day to get all the frivolities done. It is now slowly inching towards the evening. I have spent an hour lazing about, suspended in the limbo of asleep and awake. It has been most pleasurable and greatly rejuvenating. I wish I could have stayed in bed a little longer today. But then, once you get out, and until you get in, fully committing to sleep at night, you are, for all intents and purposes, a person. And as a person, I cannot simply call it a day in the evening. We must go to the town and celebrate a friend’s revolution around the sun. That is what people do, I reckon, and for a few hours, about six or seven more of them, I must do it, too.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here