If I could incarnate Time in any single image, it would have to be a block of cheese. Yes, time is like cheese for me. There is nothing it is broken into: there are no days off to look forward to, Mondays to dread, end of the day to yearn for, alarm clocks to make me wish for another hour of sleep. I wake up when I'm refreshed. I go to sleep when I'm tired, usually in the early morning. In between I do some reading, drink coffee and tea, smoke, drink beer. Time is the same homogenous substance; the days creep by and every day is like every other day; it is light out, it is dark out; the sun works its way across the sky. Bit by bit I grow older as I work my way through my books at a lazy pace; nothing really needs to get done; I have no deadlines or busy periods; nothing exciting ever happens. When it is light out I think I must get to the store before it gets dark; that's really the only difference between day and night for me. When did all of this begin? How did I arrive to where I am? I have gotten so used to all of this that I have forgotten. I do not know anymore how I do not starve; I get money from the bank; I do not quite comprehend where it comes from. This has been going on for a very long time. I do not really have a sense of just how long. It is as if the past 5 years of my life has no variation in quality; it is all quantity, and no matter how big it is, it all seems the same to my memory; it could be 10 years, it could be one; it would make no difference. If I got a 20 year prison sentence right now, it would seem incredibly long at first; but were I to think right now that I will live as I'm living for another 20 years, I would shrug; and the cheese of time would be added to and added to, without ever seeming any different, and one day I would realize that another 20 years is gone.