Bears Breathing Beer Breath

If the 24 hour cycle is a water pipe, it surely has started to feel as if it went from just tiny drips of water to one whole raging flow. As if, day by day, year by year, the knob that controls the water flow is constantly being turned further, and further. Or like a dam, with a little leak in it's wall, that's gradually bursting open.


Damn, I'm scared.

What happened to the good ol' days of waking up to Sunday morning cartoons, and spilling cereal milk on the pajamas out of the failure of multi-tasking between watching TV and eating. To eating a proper lunch at a proper time. To drawing Earthworm Jim, to only realize much much later that it looks more like a distorted, limp male-reproductive unit in a spacesuit. To explore the various positions of riding down, or up a slide and get scabs as badges of honour. To awkwardly inviting myself to a game of football, and slip on the ball like a banana peel in an attempt to deliver the mightiest kick I could offer , right about 10 cm away from the goal. To later realizing that I am no good to the game like salt to a snail, and surrendered to the sympathetic sighs of the swings. To flail myself into the air from the swing like a catapult, and try to land as cool as possible. Yeah, getting your face covered in dirt and grass is cool alright. Then, take long showers 'til the the hands gets all pruny and wrinkly and get shit scared. To tucking the pajamas into the matching pants, pulled up sky high and not caring about testicle health. To watching badly malay voice-dubbed cartoons, and get dissappointed that the news is at 8, on every single local channel, instead of more badly Malay voice-dubbed cartoons. To getting the pajamas's sleeve stained with dinner, but still not bothered to fold it up. To not know the meaning (and to spell) of procrastination yet, by doing homeworks at 9, everyday, without fail. To sneaking up til' 12 to watch Ren And Stimpy and think how much of a bad boy I am, not following bed time and watching Powdered Toastman farting up powdered, glittery toast and the 1001 usefulness of a rubber nipple. To brushing off teeth, and still be a bad-boy and eat the toothpaste, although countless times told not too. Mmmmm, Strawberry Kodomo Lion's. And sleep.


All in the space of 24 good hours.


But now, it's all just a repeating treadmill, which keeps going on faster and faster and faster.



Goddangit, where's the time remote ?