Opening your eyes every morning you know that this is a new day. You see your child, you smell your lover, wife, friend, companion. Pulling back the sheets you groan and contemplate what it is you’re supposed to do that day, then narrow down your options from there. What you should be doing is thinking about the things you’d like to do that day and going from there instead. You’re alive, you’ve got a little money, you’ve got love, you’ve got a roof over your head, you’ve made it. No matter what they tell you, you’re there. You’ve arrived. You’re living. So your belly’s got a little flab on it, so you’ve bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, too much drinking, smoking, a broken heart maybe. You’re alive, and today is new. Fresh. Well as fresh as that spinach you bought two days ago that says FRESH on it anyway. You’ve been some places, seen some things, hurt, loved, won, lost. But today, today is your day. Like every other day, but this one is here and now. Enjoy that song you’ve stuck in your head, mull it over, rearrange it. Take the melancholy and make it funk, reggae, and jazz. If you stop yourself and realise, this is better than opium. Get your fix over breakfast. Feel the crunch of granola on your teeth, let the peanut butter on toast stick to the roof of your mouth, watch the white of the milk swirl and dilute in the blackness of your tea or coffee. Breath it in. This is living. Ah, this is living. For today anyway.