smoke inhalation
insomnia hits hard, friend.
let's talk about my day--i rarely do. don't i?
it's funny--do i not = don't i.
i woke up from a bit of sleep. i ate cereal. i listened to gogogo airheart's first lp, ralph vaughn williams: fantasia on a theme of thomas tallis, bela bartok: concerto for orchestra (two different versions, herbert von karajan conducting and antal dorati conducting), and, of course, the postal service: give up. i went to plasma lab lecture. i drank some tea, moved my car from lot 2 to lot 9, listened to the postal service; tracks four and eight. i went to the astronomy meeting, shot the breeze, discussed the day's protest, statistics, telescopes, weather, and the lack of pizza present at the meeting. and so hunger struck like a mac truck. yes, i could have eaten something, but i did not want to be late for practice. i did not want that at all. it was already 7:20pm and, shoot, i wanted to practice. (somewhere in the middle of that, i gave sarah a ride home--we listened to the postal service s'more)
practice. i played like crap. i felt like crap. i actually cried. i'm such a selfish bastard sometimes--self hatred oozes from all my orifices.
i should have eaten something beforehand. food makes such a difference in my demeanor.
i listened to iron and wine on the way to norms. i was shaking/shivering in the car and i wanted to cry so hard it was difficult to think. perhaps it wasn't just the food deprivation that did it? is it school? the mounds of work that appeared out of nowhere? maybeso. i felt better with a bit of soup and salad and sandwich and conversation.
home. hella is playing tomorrow after all! exciting news--diamond in the rough and all that jazz. emily is up right now too, i think. bah. who needs sleep? it's cold, eh?
thank you, debbie dear.
dude,johnny cash is singing hurt. golly, the world is screwy.
let's talk about my day--i rarely do. don't i?
it's funny--do i not = don't i.
i woke up from a bit of sleep. i ate cereal. i listened to gogogo airheart's first lp, ralph vaughn williams: fantasia on a theme of thomas tallis, bela bartok: concerto for orchestra (two different versions, herbert von karajan conducting and antal dorati conducting), and, of course, the postal service: give up. i went to plasma lab lecture. i drank some tea, moved my car from lot 2 to lot 9, listened to the postal service; tracks four and eight. i went to the astronomy meeting, shot the breeze, discussed the day's protest, statistics, telescopes, weather, and the lack of pizza present at the meeting. and so hunger struck like a mac truck. yes, i could have eaten something, but i did not want to be late for practice. i did not want that at all. it was already 7:20pm and, shoot, i wanted to practice. (somewhere in the middle of that, i gave sarah a ride home--we listened to the postal service s'more)
practice. i played like crap. i felt like crap. i actually cried. i'm such a selfish bastard sometimes--self hatred oozes from all my orifices.
i should have eaten something beforehand. food makes such a difference in my demeanor.
i listened to iron and wine on the way to norms. i was shaking/shivering in the car and i wanted to cry so hard it was difficult to think. perhaps it wasn't just the food deprivation that did it? is it school? the mounds of work that appeared out of nowhere? maybeso. i felt better with a bit of soup and salad and sandwich and conversation.
home. hella is playing tomorrow after all! exciting news--diamond in the rough and all that jazz. emily is up right now too, i think. bah. who needs sleep? it's cold, eh?
thank you, debbie dear.
dude,johnny cash is singing hurt. golly, the world is screwy.