It’s what being alive was meant for, or something

Waking up at 4pm with sand all over your bed and nary a memory of why it’s there: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

Leaving Tiny Laptop switched on downloading torrents of Farscape for three days now and not even being sure if you like the show or not, or if you’ll even buy it if you do: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

Trying to fix an intermittent problem with your laptop playing back sound and video in near-slow motion by hitting it repeatedly: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

Ignoring your personal cries to stop eating the shit you’ve been eating all the time over the last month or so lest you become Fat Ian again, because you want a pizza because you’re fucking well hungover: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

Remembering you haven’t had a coffee and getting the vague joy that comes with knowing you’re going to have one for the first time in over 24 hours: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

Chocolate milk: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

Giving up on writing this blog because concentrating is making you feel nauseas: it’s what being alive was meant for, or something.

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