When you’re 21, you don’t need sleep. When you’re 51, it’s all you want from life.

From the moment you climb out of bed until the moment you get back into bed you will wonder about little else besides: “When am I going to be able to get back into bed?”

As soon as you wake up, you will want to go back to sleep. If you don’t necessarily want to go back to sleep, one thing’s for sure: you don’t want to get out of bed.

Do you know why I’m even saying this? Because it’s 8:28 and I feel like I should have gone to bed half an hour ago. And I would have. However, I decided to start a new post on this blog. I’ll probably dream about this blog tonight, and about all the posts I’m going to write in the future.

I dreamed about dead people last night, so dreaming about this blog will be fine with me if that’s what happens once I go to sleep.


This is Marcel Duchamp.
I’ll be writing about him at some point, never fear. If you’re afraid I might say something racy about him, you’re right. Man, what I wouldn’t give to see your face when I finally write about Marcel Duchamp!

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