High Fidelity

In the morning I drink the vodka I bought yesterday because it's cold, and it seeps to the bones. Just down two shots to keep myself warm. Then I think of the possibilities I can do in a day, and how I resort to stay in the bed and do the ceiling check, the floor check, these checks which didn't even make sense but which we resort to do everyday because it didn't hurt. I think of a paper and an exam this afternoon; it's 9:46, and I have four more hours to disillusion myself into saying the world isn't pointless.