sunday mornz

low-impact workout with german youtuber, two microwaved eggs with low-fat cheese, browers unwinding the atlantic, the new yorker, unitas lit and facebook. oats too fine for my soymilk, so fine it breaks down and disappears.

It feels like a camusian kind of weekend. a latte two blocks down, semi-warm (or semi cold) on the way up the fifth floor.

Jobs, news, vaccines and meals.

Sometimes I forget how to speak that other language, as if the years there were just a season or two of netflix episodes, automatically translated, regrettably forgotten. Let’s use less proverbs and more verbs, more English and less Mandarin, eat more veggies and less carbs.

Today is Sunday morning. On sunday mornings I go grocery shopping, read, eat.

Spreading butter on toasts, I used to write poems and conceive analogies, now it’s all just the right terms and proper adjectives, so that no one gets offeneded, and I leave the door open on the way out.