Sunday, June 16, 2013


If you're looking for porn, this isn't it.  Sorry.  Maybe another time.

But I love my bed. I could spend my life there, crawling in it, moaning because I like it so much, and looking at the trees through the window; hearing the birds during the warm seasons, the silence in the winter.  I can't resist the nesting feeling.  Getting up is torture.

Of course, when my feet are on the ground, I am non-stop: writing, exercising, cooking, running after the little bitches Colette and Simone, cleaning Beckett's cage, listening to Pierre (tough task, listening to spouses), etc.

But truly, am I a lazy bum in the closet?  A bed potato?

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