every breath you take, every move you make

Sometimes I wonder what I might look like to the outside world. If my apartment was replete with cameras like the Big Brother house, what would they see? Me on my couch a lot, I suspect. The TV often on but not usually watched.

There would be a time-lapse of me laying on my left side, then my right, then moving to the floor, the couch as a back-rest, then back up again. The light would change as the sun sank lower in the sky. I’d disappear periodically into the kitchen or bathroom. You’d see my laptop come in and out. Books do the same. A guitar or two, my sketchbooks, maybe a pile of laundry every now and again. I’d text someone from time to time, check my email on my other phone…and that would be about my day.

I’m not sure why I spend my weekends like this, on average. I suspect that it has a lot to do with being so active during the week…I just want the time to decompress.

Or I’m destined to be the unabomber, who can say for sure?

***Dear Federal Government,

I was being sarcastic when I mentioned being destined to be the unabomber. It was my humorous, though unreasonable, extrapolation of the effects of my self-imposed solitude. I do not, in reality, have a hateful or violent bone in my body.

Except towards the people in Jersey Shore. I mean, have you seen that shit?!***

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