on days when he's not working the morning shift, his circadian rhythm disrupts itself at 7.25 every morning. it's that kind of Murphy's Law situation whereby you set your alarm to go off at 7.30 and you wake up 5 minutes before the designated time. i think he's lucky though. i know of other people who set 3 alarms clocks to go off at 3 minutes intervals. 9 minutes later and a horrendous rendition of the Hallelujah chorus interpreted by a choir of alarm clocks, they are still lying in bed, blissfully unaware of all the bad attempts at harmonization. still, it's pretty cool to beat an alarm clock at a game of punctuality.

between 7.25 to 7.40, he is wide awake and pretending to sleep. sometimes in order to prevent himself from getting lulled back to dreamland, he thinks dirty fantasies to keep awake. you see, if he were to wake up and start his day at 7.25, his parents would launch into their usual barrage of questions about what he's going to be doing today and the breakfast that's available in the fridge. apparently, the family that God has designated him to, are just not that great at making good conversation. and even if they do, topics mainly revolve around information the parents need to keep the family going. on bad days when conversations are running dry, his parents talk about everything and anything on the dining table. they have had one too many awkward discussions about pancakes, muffins, bagels and chee cheong fun.

it's even worse, however, when there happens to be any article in the newspapers remotely related to homosexuality. his parents have this bad habit of 'accidentally' leaving the incriminating page wide open on the dining table, a not-so-subtle hint of wanting their son to realize the errors of his crooked way. the only error i see here would be that the son never reads the papers, preferring CNN.com or any other online sources of information. plus, the papers are always filled with the morning's breakfast leftovers. pieces of crumbs, a strand of noodle, grains of rice, etc. he even found nasal snot once.

all is at peace when the parents depart for work at 7.40. the offending newspaper article is spread wide-open, the way a porn star spreads his ass for a pornographic photo-shoot. he is more concerned about rushing to the neighborhood gym before it gets too crowded with heartlanders. he never liked the gym to be filled with irritating men who hog the Smith Machine for an entire forty-five minutes. healways told anyone who bothered to listen: 'like how many different variations of bench presses and lifts can you do on the Smith Machine? bah! an excuse to just lie on the bench and slack!' by 8.00, he would cut the slack and be out of the house.

some people brush their teeth first thing in the morning. some kiss their wives. he did neither. at 8.00, he would be smoking his first stick of the day. early in the morning without the concealer and coffee, he sits at the stairs outside of his house, letting the nicotine cloud his head for a few measly seconds. on a whim, he takes a picture of himself with his camera phone. i wish i could remind him to avoid all forms of photography at least an hour after sleep.

he never did look good in broad daylight.

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