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4:30 am if I want to run, 5:30 if I just intend to go to work.
Often I get home late from theater rehearsal at 9, 10, 11 — or just from a date. I get home late because I want to live.
Time is hyperfluid; hyper-relative. I dream of living in a time of time-molasses rather than time-quicksand. I’d like to spend a whole day watching the sun move across the sky.
Being indoors does not help; neither does being in front of a computer screen (or to be Heideggarian about it: Being-in-front-of-screen is negation of Being). I lose my sense of the time of day — the digital marker on my computer screen seems unreal (9:14am at the moment). I see a time-denotation but I don’t feel time. I am time-blind.
Sleep-starved, time-blind.
Hmm.
