When was the last time you woke up at 4am? It’s pretty much the darkest point of the entire night, when Marilyn Manson’s skin shines brighter than the sun ever could. Last time I checked God isn’t even awake at 4am. Zombies, party boys, drug addicts, and homeless people – nobody is awake at 4am. If they are technically awake, it’s in some state of extreme inebriation that doesn’t really qualify them as being a part of the waking world.
You know who is awake at 4am? This guy right here is. That’s right, I wake up every day at 4am. Why? Because I have to get the worm. That’s my thing. I get up early, and I get the worm.
And I hate it.
Think I have a choice? I don’t. It’s built into my genetic material or something. I try everything I can to sleep in, but nothing can do it. Ambien, alcohol, severe head trauma – no matter what, I end up waking up every morning with the urge to go out there and get that worm. And I do get that worm, let me tell you. But what the hell is the point? It’s a worm. When was the last time you wanted to wake up early to get a worm? It’s not “Early bird gets the million dollars and the Maserati,” or “Early bird gets the winning lottery ticket and the marriage with Denise Richards,” is it? (That’s right, I’ll take Charlie Sheen’s scraps any day)
And please, don’t start throwing ridiculous sayings at me to make me happy about this. I’m early to rise every day, but I’m not healthy, wealthy, or wise. Going to bed early and waking up early isn’t going to cure the Bird Flu is it? No it’s not. And you can go ahead and check my bank account to verify that wealthy hasn’t entered into my life story either. And wise? What the hell is wise about waking up before the Sun gets out of bed to get a slimy, brainless, and generally useless piece of moving flesh out of the ground? Nothing. I’m a piss poor, dirty addict.
I’m going to say it, whether you like it or not. This isn’t my fault. I didn’t choose this life. I was born into it. My parents were addicts, my grandparents were addicts – we’ve all had the same unstoppable desire to dig that damn worm right out of the ground. We can’t stop. Why do you think so many baby birds end up jumping out of their nests to their doom? You think it’s because we want to learn to fly? To hell with flying. We need the worms. Do you think we like holding down side jobs as musicians and property saboteurs? Of course not. I hate having to sit by your window and sing my way into a pathetic career as your alarm clock, but you know what? I have a habit to support. It beats prostitution, and I know. I’ve been there.
So why don’t you think twice next time you start singing the praises of how we Early Birds get all the worms. Count your blessings, and next time you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock, think of how fortunate you are to not be sprawled out beneath an oak tree, covered in your own filth and vomit with bits of worm strewn about you. That’s what being the Early Bird really looks like.
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