I like mornings. I'm strangely optimistic the earlier it is and I usually never feel terrible until noon or later. I start feeling good again around 11 pm, sometimes 10. My best hours are 11 pm-7 am and because I do occassionally function in society I usually spend most of that time sleeping or lamenting about how I can't. But not last night. Last night I was awake all night drinking and watching TV and listening to music and looking out the window at the cars that sometimes passed and I wasn't ever wasted, just a steady awesome drunk and I swear I thought I learned to appreciate The Beatles all over again. But then I was finished drinking because it was 5 o'clock and for some reason I have always considered 5 o'clock officially morning so I got up and took a walk and I didn't even leave the yard I just walked around my yard and shared this crazy bond with the birds and said goodbye to the moon and then I came back inside. All my family was asleep. There is the right kind of power in knowing that nobody in the world will bother you as long as you stay quiet. And they were snoring but it was somehow different from the monstrous way they snore at 2 am. At 5 am it's like some animal I've never seen or heard before purring, it's strange and good. And I put on some coffee and started melting butter in a pan. I made a perfect egg muffin. I love breakfast. I don't love to eat, I guess I mean I don't love to eat in front of other people. I feel like there's no reason eating shouldn't be just as humiliating as shitting. It's just as strange and gross and vulnerable and there is the same strictly personal sense of relief, for me anyway. I don't want to think about other people eating and, though I rarely get my way, I don't want them to see me eat. I hate to eat lunch and I hate to eat dinner. Fuck steak. And get a handjob from lobster. I like breakfast. Whatever happened to the humanity that appreciated breakfast? If you don't appreciate breakfast, forget you. Anyway, I made this egg muffin with ham, the good ham, and the cheese was melted just perfectly, the egg was so well done the edges were crispy but the yolk was still a little runny for some magical reason. The muffin was toasted and buttered. The whole thing was greasy. Not afternoon fair food hot sticky horrible children greasy. Sexy quiet in the diner by yourself coffee and cigarettes salty awesome greasy. The coffee is strong. It is get-ready-to-shit-black and it's all mine. And I can eat the whole thing like a fucking shameless boar because I am completely alone. The buzz from my nights drinking wears off just as the new different buzz from the coffee takes me, like this perfect no hangover transition. The bliss has climaxed and I wait for somebody to wake up and ruin the rest of my day.