a day in the life of a fool

i woke up aimless, not sure if i wanted to wake up, not sure if i've slept enough. the kind of indecisiveness when you've went to bed after 2 a.m in the morning. then something prompted me to wake up -must be the bright day and feeling responsible about my weekend- and i did. then came the breakfast and the long, insightful talk, and the impulsive hop into the cab that took us to taksim.
we aimed at art galleries, the visual stimulation that i did realize i need more often. i'm so out of it i went looking for rembrandt and found chermayeff. soon after i got over my prejudice i was in the flow of imagery and the guy's way of thinking. ivan chermayeff gave me hope. he gave me hope that someone who collects envelopes and stamps, stamps, yes, someone who sees beauty in kraft paper, handwriting and collages, the texture of daily life, the bird encyclopedias and crammed cans, and someone who can't throw away, like me, like my grandmother, has a place in this life. he has claimed his place and maybe someday i can too. and even if i don't, like to know this is who i am. someone who takes mental pictures of nescafe grains melting in milk being heated.
but in no circumstances should a person have such a killing headache. it is unfair that i should be confined to darkness, silence and bed on a saturday night, which is so young too.