life should be a series hugs

a bath is just like a hug, only it touches you entire outer self, a small piece of the inner, and there are no bony jabs or questioned intentions. yes my friends, a bath is a full body hug. this sentence should be spoken in a monotone, with a pitch drop for the last two syllables. and no freud, it has nothing to do with my family and their or my sexual desires. who gave that guy so much credit in the first place?

i've been taking a bath nearly ever other day this winter. not because i don't care about wasting water, and not because i am soiled from the long days toil. there is nothing even remotely utilitarian about this bathing I'm into.
if everyone has a vice, this is currently mine. nothing feels better than a crazy hot bunch of water along with a good book. other than a crazy hot bunch of water, a great book and a glass of bubbles.

I bath because it's a bloody frigid winter, because i drink an awful lot otherwise, because it feels like it is mine, because i am awkward, because i have a lot of homework, the train is late, the check was mailed, relationships become sower, because seeds don't always catch on, because people don't always mean the same thing, and most of all because it feels better than anything else i do just now.

and another thing. what is this business that my skin is somehow water proof and simultaneously composed of 70% H2O. i officially choose not to believe that line any longer. what do these physical (hard) scientists know about the workings of the world anyhow? social "soft" and fuzzy) sciences are where it's at, and i am calling this waterproof story a social construction of reality. those bath molecules are intermingling with my molecules and having a circus for the tub.

could someone please bring me a towel?