the first 3 minutes of waking up

first you give the alarm clock an evil stare.
then you sit halfway up and turn it off.
trip over a few things in the hallway on the way to the bathroom.
take a minute finding the light switch.
squint your eyes.
take a leak.

 

my alarm clock sounds like a bunch of frogs ribbiting.. normal alarm clock buzzes make me instantly sick.. "no mom i don't wanna go to school"

 

I usually sleep through my alarm, haha. The first minutes of waking up are obviously the worst.

 

My motivation for getting up is smoking that first cig.

 

absolutely fascinating.

 

My first three minutes of waking up in the morning are spent in a sleep walking stupor while I bang into walls, trip over imaginary objects and fall up steps. Yes, I said fall up.

 

My First Threee Minutes Are Usually Spent Laying There Staring At The Ceiling

 

my first three minuetes consist of an ever increasing awairness of two needs. one is hunger. the other involves needing to worship at the ceramic diety.

if i do have a schedule, time, place, to be, all three will generaly transpire before any alarm goes off. my mind body subconscous has that much aversion to them, that it generaly awaikens me soon inough to be cohierent enough to actualy turn the damd things off before they actualy sound.

and if it is a sound i can actualy do anything about that has awaikened me, i am extremely enraged at its cause for what dreamlife it may have robbed me of. so much so that anger itself further robs me of rememberance of those dream's details.

needless to say, this strongly motivates me to avoid set schedules and the need for alarms of any sort.

when i sleep outdoors, or by myself in a shelter without glazing or doors, as would be, in all but the most adverse of conditions my preference, nature itself provides the schedule with its brightning skys and diversity of life forms welcoming them. living as i do, with a life mate, and in relatively dense human population conditions, i am forced to become primarily nocturnal in persuit of the degree of solitude my true self requires.

i would not, ever, advise lions, tigers or bears, to desturb my slumber, nor deny that to do so, is at their own peril. birds, those loudmouthed little bastards, have wings with which to elude my wrath. cats, foxes, mice and other small furry creatures, have their cuteness to forstall my rath and possibly save their furry little skins. my fellow humans have neither such blessing.

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