2 minutes til the machine rings too-dee-doo-dee-doo-doo... til the bigger machines start humming the day away, like old men in the mountains except without the trees and purity. I've applied too much hand cream again but what the hell, it feels nice. Now, everyone's starting to get in, the great blah begins. I am dreaming of a small house in Consolacion with a small calamansi tree and chinese bamboo for a fence. Inside, the mezzanine gladly breathes in the morning light, coffee steaming, and I am bathing lazily in a bathroom worthy of its name: bath- ROOM. Or perhaps I'm still sleeping, sprawled like a prince, naked without a care and my man cooking breakfast downstairs. Maybe I just miss yesterday or maybe this place has pushed me deeper into my head. Here's to another 8 hours of head-living, eyes off somewhere else, bobbing buoy-like in the pacific or ascending into heaven, ballooning away.