I went out to a bar last night. My college friend Freddie was in from London for the day. I rarely get to see the man so I had to go out. I only had two Guinesses, but my chinese-missing-an-enzyme self just felt faded. Then waking up for class the next morning. It sucked. So hard.

I hate the sound of my alarm.

Lots of people say hate is a strong word. I agree. You can't just go throwing hate to everything. It lacks subtlety and depth. It's very teenager.

I hate the sound of my alarm clock.

It's got this knife-in-your-brain shrill sound that makes me want to throw it against the wall. But I can't... because it's a hatred I'm familiar with. I couldn't imagine hating another alarm clock... I mean I suppose one day I'll have to. But I wouldn't like the transition. The sleep button on my alarm clock is an odd 7 minutes. It's a brilliantly dangerous button. The sleep button is brilliant because it allows you more time to gradually awaken. You can get those precious few more seconds. The sleep that cries for you back. No anger or resentment. Just the pull back into sleep's embrace.

It's dangerous cause the sleep button stops. I haven't calculated the time. But at some point my sleep button doesn't sleep anymore. Some might call it treacherous. Duplicitous. I call it just pain hurtful. I mean damn. Keep helping me up here, cause the body is so not willing. I can only muster the half blind slap at the button. There's not much in the motor in the morning.