There are words and there are hangovers and one without the other never seems quite right. There are women and there are relationships but it’s only ever felt like some kind of game and the older I get the less I feel like playing. And so I lock myself away and write and when I don’t write I remember so nothing special slips between the cracks because when I’m gone, none of this will continue save for those humble words. People have a thing for denying their history. They jump from lover to lover without looking back. They select only the most mundane aspects of their life to savour because they themselves are mundane and they never tap into the magic. And yet I’m the king of mundane. I spent ten hours lying in bed yesterday listening to Jim Cornette shoot podcasts. He’s an American wrestling personality with a potty mouth and a sharp wit, if you weren’t aware. Somewhere in the midst of this funk, I popped out for a few essentials only to run into some girl I shared a moment with a few years ago. We came face to face in a newsagents where I was buying some smokes while she was picking up alcohol with her sister. Truth be told, it was her sister that always did it for me, and yet she never seemed to be interested, much to my annoyance. She wasn’t interested this time either, and so me and (——) chatted and it was pleasant but awkward. I kept thinking about the time we made out in the back of a taxi before merging on the floor of her parent’s kitchen while they slept upstairs. She swallowed what I had to give, and when she was done I did my best to fill her up before we both fell asleep in the middle of the act. Luckily, we woke before her parents came downstairs in the morning. Somehow, I’m not sure the sight of me with the right breast of their firstborn in my mouth would’ve been the highlight of their day. So we exchanged words, and as her sister scowled at me I did my best to appear logical before going home and resuming my inactivity. Nodding off for a few hours, I awoke with the intention of writing something to justify my actions but instead prepared something to eat while imagining what it would be like to travel to the first galaxies that formed after the big bang. Do they still exist? Do they have stories to tell or did they drift in and out of being as if they were never here to begin with?