Need A New Nutshell 25 February 1999

9:29 PM: It's not always easy being a regular. Today Alice from the donut shop slipped in an extra jelly danish thing along with the cinnamon roll that I asked for. I've seen these jelly things - I don't know their technical name, sorry - seen them sitting there in the case, and they're the kind that look really good. Mmm, jelly, you know.

But then one sits down and tries to eat an entire one, and it's more like, Jesus Harold Christy Minstrels, this is a lot of jelly. And it's so tremendously sweet. At least with a jelly donut, you get something of a sandwich effect: donut, jelly, donut. Here it's one big lump in the middle. Best you can do is take a bit of the surrounding pastry as a chaser. Jelly shots. That gets it about right.

Right now I'm listening to something. I put it on, but I have no idea what it is. I was hoping that hearing it would give me a clue, but no. I'm sure one of you young people would recognize it, but to me it sounds like some kind of quasi-country-billy rock&roll band. Not bad, mind you, not at all.

I can't tell who it is mostly because the designers of the CD decided that their art was more important than stupid details like, oh, a name. I know some of you miss real album covers and all, folks, but no need to take that out on the rest of us. A band name. Maybe the CD name. That's all I'm asking for. A hint.

Is this official Online Journal Hiatus month or something? I haven't been getting my cabal newsletter lately. Uh oh. Hope that doesn't mean I've been targeted for death.

Got in extremely, badly late today - 4:30 or so. Same pattern as before: Actually awakened at 10:30 AM in a panic, convinced that I had already slept until nighttime. Much relief, lay back down, thought about breakfast, fell asleep. Woke up with alarm, turned it off, listened to NPR a while, fell asleep. Woke up later, threw covers off, almost got up, didn't, fell asleep again. Etc. If I had just been asleep the whole time, or if I had enjoyed any of it even, that would be one thing. But there's nothing fun about it. Such a strange grinding air to the time.

I dreamt that I was visiting at a mental hospital - or maybe a regular hospital that had a few psych wards - which might or might not have been a real hospital, because they were shooting a TV series in it. There were people who looked like doctors and patients all over, whether a camera was there or not, but I heard that might just be a technique of verisimilitude. Some halls, the walls and the people were all spattered with blood, like somebody had blown up in there.

They held music festivals on the roof of this place, or else in a hall inside, it kept changing. That's why I was there. I got to know these two pre-teen/teen girls, hard to judge age exactly, who were there for drug detox and the like. They were suspicious of people. I don't know why they liked me but they did. Then I had to leave. Well, I didn't have to, my bus back to town was going to leave soon. I told them I'd be back. I might have even meant it.

Whoever is putting these dreams into my head is the same wise guy that keeps the Star Spangled Banner on a loop in my brain. One of these days, I'm gonna find out who it is, and they're gonna be sorry.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.