When my cats are circling my feet and Iβm busting out a song to the tune of the Little Richard Tutti Frutti instrumental (no voices) that sounds nothing like the original but is only set to the beat, I really feel like Iβm doing what Iβm meant to do.
Put on the robe, turn on adult swim or whatever, crank the ac, eat a late night snack in one bed and sleep in the other. The freedom of impersonal liminal space.
