I feel sick with mundanity, the faint tired hangover of exhaustion from this morning’s whiskey/coffee fuelled romp, tearing through Oakville’s bright but gray October day. Maybe it was the funeral, or the several inbox messages I’m ignoring, or the pop radio in the room over is too loud, or too banal, and is giving me a massive headache. Maybe my bra fits weird and is too tight and the underwire pokes out and irritates my ribs each time I breathe out, or the cold food I had, over-spiced with rosemary by some hotshot executive chef the restaurant hired to consult on their new menu so they could put his too-white smile and credential on the backs of their menus to impress diners. It could be the lighting in this room, too bright at 60W per lightbulb, times three lightbulbs. I replaced them recently so I am used to only one of them working, at 40W. It feels harsh and surreal, as though my bed is prop dressing on the set of some garish pornographic movie.
released October 6, 2016
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