This Isn't Any Better
19 February 2001
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This Isn't Any Better
19 February 2001
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9:56 PM: So it was a holiday Today, President's Day or some such. I was going to get up and do, oh, such wonderful things. Not. I slept until 5:30 PM. Dinked around a while - oh wait, that's not true. I woke up at 8 AM. I couldn't bring myself to do anything and just read for a few hours, went back to sleep, then woke up at 5:30 after a long series of the usual weird dreams, none of which I remember particularly now (fortunately, I guess).
OK, so yes, dinking. Went out and got some more milk, because I keep buying it and then not using it before it goes bad. Made tea. Have managed to get some work done, but after maybe three hours worth, my brain has seized up again. I just can't think anymore. It worries me.
Yesterday was birthdays - Austin, a DJ at the bar, and Raymond, one of the regulars there. Austin played some of his songs, which was cool except of course for all the talking by his "friends", none of whom could apparently bear to pay attention to anything for longer than 20 minutes. That started at 9 PM. Then, much later, over to the local karaoke bar where Raymond was holding court. That was scary. Much drinking involved in both situations.
Which had something to do with why I woke up so early, why I couldn't do anything just yet when I did, why I went back to sleep, etc.. Along with other causes, but still. That's kind of scary too. Considering I think I woke up in the same state on Saturday morning.
I don't know what I'm doing. Or maybe better put, I know what, but I don't know why.
God Bless Ralph Dept.:
Q. Are you a pariah to the Democratic Party?From an interview in The New York Times, 18 Feb 2001
A. That assumes I care about that.
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. | ||||
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