October 8th, 2002

Salt Precaution

Dying sleep

I slept in until 2:30pm.

If I'm not mistaken . . . that's actually the latest I've slept in in my life.

No, I don't feel guilty about it. Not at all. As late as it was, I still only got nine hours of sleep. And it was perfect for my plan to get an oil change.

I usually get my oil changed at Wal-Mart--their automobile-servicing area opens at 7am. Of course, if you expect the job to get done within 3 hours, you gotta get there early. And that was a tough thing for me--I hate getting up early.

And that's why I've lately realised that . . . I don't have to get up early if I simply stay up very, very late.

Oh, it'll work, you just wait and see.

It's just after 3am now, which means I have just four hours 'til the place opens. Until then, I've plenty to keep me occupied.

Hey--to-day I bought some Veggie Tempura at the mall. It was damned good. To get it, I stood next to a woman holding her flailing baby sideways.

I also ran into Magious's grandparents at the mall. Those two are peculiarly over-kind to me. Sometimes I think that they think Magious and I are a homosexual couple--I mean, sometimes they tell me to take good care of him and such, and, well, they're just . . . er . . . quite sweet to me. It's almost too bad we're not gay--not many gay couples have such supportive grandparents I'd wager.

This evening I purchased a 12 pack of Cherry Coke. And just as I was thinking about how hard to find Cherry Coke's been lately.

Hm. My nose is cold . . .
  • Current Music
    Cranes - Sunrise
Salt Precaution

. . .

Ah . . .

. . . fuck it I'm going to bed.

(damn you Hope Sandoval this is your doing)
  • Current Music
    Mazzy Star - Umbilical
Salt Precaution

At the dawn of a new something . . .

"Well here I am, 2pm. What day is it?" -Jack Kerouac

'tis Tuesday, the night of my Death and Dying in Literature class, the class for which I was supposed to have read As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner. I have read some of it . . . it seems to be a pretty easy read, I may well have it mostly finished by to-night . . .

In light of that assignment, I prolly oughtn't have been reading Mussolini and the Axeman's Jazz by Poppy Z. Brite. But it was good so . . .

I dreamt that Trisa and I lived on top of an icy mountain constantly assailed by violent storms of swirling wind, rain, and dark skies. One had always to yell to be heard over the howling cacophony.

One day, Trisa died. It was determined that she had fallen down one of the many enormous crevasses that dotted the mountain side.

I had scarcely begun to morn when it was discovered that Trisa had actually been engaged to a wealthy European prince who lived in an enormous mansion on a side of the mountain I'd never visited. So he was displaying the stoic-exterior-while-dying-inside thing to the press. And I remember thinking about how much I'd never known about Trisa.

I don't recall much else about the dream, except I think at one point I was trying to break into the mansion, and I ended up destroying one of its rain gutters on accident.
  • Current Music
    The Smiths - Shoplifters of the World Unite