The blue-haired Demons lay in wait

Maybe because I worked eight days in a row recently.
Maybe because it's been muggy.
Maybe because I've been smoking too much.
Maybe because I feel in a slump, stuck in a rut (again, again, again),

But I'm exhausted and overcome by that Old Numb Feeling again. It's not full blown, but creeping on slowly, a little more each day for the past few weeks. Nothing seems really interesting. No Future vision. Thoughts of "wouldn't be easier to not live" trickling into daily My Inner Monologue flow. It's like 2004 all over again, the months leading up to that fateful day of phone calls home and a clinic. Bored and despondent. What's the point of It All?

I just want to sleep.

I got nothing to do
You got nothing to say
Everything is so fucked up
I guess it's natural that way

I got nothing to do
You got nothing to say
Everything is so fucked up
I guess we like it that way
Husker Du--"Everything Falls Apart"

My dreams are full of milk spilling on the floor. That time Freshman year: a dorm fridge full of Old Milwaukee Tall Boys and Andy D. drops a bottle of Southern Comfort and yells "grab a straw! Save the booze!" My Grandparents walking out of the room, disappointed. Crying alone in various places I've seen. Blackness. A girl from New York I met recently, laughing. Walking in a dim movie theater lost, the projector is broken.

Good times, good times.

Off to Monthly(ish) Brunch at M.U./C.U.'s apartment with Arsh and crew. Happy Birthday, C.U.