=20 <?null /* I open my eyes, stare at the clock, cur= se the hour at which I fell asleep, and I get dressed. I know it is time to= wake up, and I know that I feel a little better than my flu-ridden day bef= ore. I can function today, Ican work. These mornings bec= ome a routine of coffee and writing, trying to beat theclock before depart= ing to my job. The best ones were commited to bits when I lived in Burlingt= on at 5am before opening the deli. Some of my best ideas find their raw way= to the blogs I post in these morning sessions. These little morning scampi= ngs, come to think of it, would make a great daily column. If only I were p= ublished... I feel the weight of my muscles, fat, skin, a= nd clothing on my ribs. WhenI awake, I feel like all of my bones are reass= embling themselves ever so gently. As if in the night they were all laying = in a pile within my skin, then just slid back in place. Everything is new i= n the morning, fresh, reborn. Everything is young, ideas are materialized f= rom the night'sponderance. It is almost like being born. */ ?> -- Posted by sku11fu= kkr to ...Come The Wolves[1] at 3/7/2005 08:52:00 AM --- Links --- 1 3D"http://digitalucifer.net//2005_03_07__col.php#11102042532=