That's the way I feel this morning, er, afternoon. I'm sitting here by my window, bathed in warm sunshine, contemplating what's left of the day, having just poured my third cup of coffee. I've been completely awake since 12:30, but I woke up the first time at 10:30 this morning. Given that I didn't go to bed until just after 7:00 a.m. this morning (see the post below), 10:30 was way too early to be up and about. Nonetheless, I did get up, turned off the ceramic heater that did well by me when the outside temperature was 28 degrees but was slow-roasting the interior once the temp rose to 65, opened a window, made the coffee, and returned to bed until the coffee finished brewing. Two hours later...
It's only semi-decadent to sleep until well after noon in my current circumstance. Why, you may ask? Well, it's hard to be truly decadent on the wind-swept and nearly treeless High Plains of Eastern New Mexico. I also awoke this morning alone and with a clear head. Way too Red-State. I've sampled true decadence, and New Mexico, you're NOT decadent. Well, some parts of Albuquerque might qualify. I've heard stories.
No, achieving true decadence, in my eyes, requires an accomplice or three; proscribed substances (optional); copious amounts of Singha, Stella Artois, or San Miguel; a cultivated attitude of nonchalance; and suitable venues wherein one can put that attitude on display. A tropical or semi-tropical clime helps, but isn't a strict requirement...witness certain parts of New York City, London's West End, and the underground clubs of Moscow or Prague. I much prefer Bangkok or any of several camp towns outside the gates of American military bases, however. Willing accomplices abound in those places. It's easy to feign nonchalance, and you can assuredly awake with much less than a clear head, usually in the company of a woman unfamiliar to you when the night began, in a place no more familiar. Life is usually exciting in those circumstances, or, at the very least, stimulating. And most definitely decadent.
Ah, nostalgia. Sometimes I wonder if maturity is worth it.
It's only semi-decadent to sleep until well after noon in my current circumstance. Why, you may ask? Well, it's hard to be truly decadent on the wind-swept and nearly treeless High Plains of Eastern New Mexico. I also awoke this morning alone and with a clear head. Way too Red-State. I've sampled true decadence, and New Mexico, you're NOT decadent. Well, some parts of Albuquerque might qualify. I've heard stories.
No, achieving true decadence, in my eyes, requires an accomplice or three; proscribed substances (optional); copious amounts of Singha, Stella Artois, or San Miguel; a cultivated attitude of nonchalance; and suitable venues wherein one can put that attitude on display. A tropical or semi-tropical clime helps, but isn't a strict requirement...witness certain parts of New York City, London's West End, and the underground clubs of Moscow or Prague. I much prefer Bangkok or any of several camp towns outside the gates of American military bases, however. Willing accomplices abound in those places. It's easy to feign nonchalance, and you can assuredly awake with much less than a clear head, usually in the company of a woman unfamiliar to you when the night began, in a place no more familiar. Life is usually exciting in those circumstances, or, at the very least, stimulating. And most definitely decadent.
Ah, nostalgia. Sometimes I wonder if maturity is worth it.
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