Now, years later . . . something has returned. Is it some vestige of the old alarm yet remaining in the ceiling or . . . something stranger? All I know for sure is its terrible wail wakes me in the night . . .
Technology's just fucking with me to-day. My computer crashed again (still need to put in that power supply) and the light bulb in my ceiling fan burnt out suddenly, as it seems to be doing more and more often.
Had a dream about Grey Goose jelly beans.
There was no rum or cream in my eggnog.
Deliver real substance by any means.
The woods were built by a well suited hog.
I don't think eggnog agrees with me. I'm starting to think milk doesn't agree with me. I'm going through quite the metamorphosis. The last latte I had was over a month ago, and I remember it happened to be a really good latte, as though the drink was bidding me farewell. I have to think drinking coffee two to three times a day for ten years and suddenly stopping now has affected in me in more ways than I cannot yet identify. I don't know what's illness and what's just the new state of things. Aside from the phantom fire alarm, an occasional sharp pain in my lower left abdomen kept waking me up, too. Things have to go back to normal at some point, right?
I watched "Sleeper" last night, a seventh season episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer guest starring Aimee Mann. I liked it better than I did the first time I watched it, but I still don't think it's one of the better episodes--Spike's problem with killing people in a trance in the end just seems to be re-treading territory of Spike's guilt that needed to be built on and explored further, not repeated. But I love how Mann's "Pavlov's Bell" fit the subject matter so well.