We Hate Being Awake to See the Sun Come Up

But a hacking cold's keeping us up, so here we are; a prisoner of the inexorable dawn.  Homer called it rosy-fingered, if we recall correctly.  What a jerkoff.  Dawn isn't rosy fingered.  It's a daily reminder of birth, that Titanic in reverse.  The birds are singing their horrid morning song.  We're not falling for it. They're nothing but winged propagandists, Lord Haw-Haws of the Air paid to propagate the absurd idea that the morning isn't something to be met with a 12-gauge. 

Don't get us wrong.  We know morning people.  They're crazies, every last one of them.  They say things like "Up and at 'em!" They grab sports equipment and race out into the half-dark.  Since they emptied the mental hospitals, there are gagas everywhere.

As the darkness fades, you can begin to pick out objects--a chimney, a tv antenna, your hopes for the day jumping off the top of an apartment building on the next block.  The sky's going from grey to blue at an alarming rate.  It's a horror show.  Fifty years' worth of dawns, and we still haven't met one that hasn't put us off our breakfast. 

God. Here comes the sun over the horizon.  Nothing good can come of it.

Comments

[Martijn]

Love this piece against morning. Here here! I for one like mornings. It's the evenings that normally get me, which is a worse condition because your morning will automatically and soon be noon, but my evening is always still to come. But the same priciple works for me on an annual scale: with seasons. I hate spring. It's the beginning of the end, year after year after year. When 'normal people' see a beginning they think: ha, a beginning... how nice. When I see one, I see the end.

In Holland those fucking flowers have come out of the ground again! It was a long winter of contempt, all was quiet and all was well. Then suddenly nature awakes with all kinds of obscene flowers who fling it's genitals in your face. Spring flowers... dragging me into the ground.

Oh, I wrote this as an e-mail with the attachment of a picture of our spring flowers, but thought it better as 'comment' and now I see you singing the praise of spring. Sort of.

[UF Mike]

Your diatribe against spring and the obscene flowers waving their genitals is a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Thank you, Martijn.

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