Some days are better than others. Some days are difficult to exist inside and some days are not. This is probably why I enjoy a long, uninterrupted sleep. This is also why I view life in an ephemeral sense. It's easier that way, isn't it?
Step 1:
You wake up to a clean slate. The belongings around you have been left from past lives that you've somehow managed to take with you. Your sheets, your pillow, your dresser, your mirror. Your soap, towel, clothes and coffee maker have all been left for you.
Step 2:
You effect things. You either go to work, or you decide not to. You make decisions and you effect people, places and things. You spit on the sidewalk and leisurely walk toward the bus. You read Charles Bukowski's, "Women" and are glad you did. You meet with a stranger and discuss measly topics like sports and dinner plans. In the grand scheme of things these topics are irrelevant in reference to the big picture. But today is a full life, ephemeral. With a sunrise and sunset the day will be complete, and the same for tomorrow.
Step 3:
You drunkenly stumble home and put on a record that you have no memory of ever hearing. Your records are your friends and they keep you company as you dose off into sleep. You think about the decisions you made in the day, mistakes or not. You're aware that you'll have no recollection of anything come tomorrow. You'll wake up with a hangover and wonder about what potentially happened. It's exciting.
Step 4:
Repeat step one.
These miniature lives make up an entire life. It'd be nice if you could revisit each specific day before you died, or something like that. In the form of a mosaic or a slide show or a movie. That would be pleasant.
