Coffee is in the making as I am scribbling down the words dejour, as they are coming at the moment. Feeling tired today, weak in the body. Weak in the structure that will supposedly keep me upright for a few more years. My structure needs coffee and my coffee needs milk and lots of it. Tastes like shit otherwise. You could say I like my milk with a splash of coffee in it. Not passing down the sugar either so keep it coming, though I have cut down immensely on that.
Just ten more minutes before the store across the street opens up its jaws to the nonpatient public. A public this hour of the day consisting merely of seniors reeking of death and decaying skin, your standard alcoholics in dire need of that first fix, and me. But I just want that milk so I can get my coffee so I can regain the energy to straiten my backbone into the world.
For the greater good, I will return.
With coffee.
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this is my resistance
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