Last night I was up until almost 5 am because my sleep schedule is trashed from night work and dopaminergic antidepressant medication. This is in itself depressing. I got to sleep probably around 5:30 and then woke up again at 9 to the clarion call of severe abdominal pain. Thereafter followed an episode over which, dear reader, I will draw a veil. Let’s just say an alien decided to leave my body.
Exhausted from the intestinal adventure, I went back to bed. I woke up thinking hmm it must be about 1 or 2 it seems late. No, it was 6 pm. So, I lost a day. Therefore I chose not to go see Built to Spill tonight because I thought another alien might well wake up inside me and I didn’t want that to happen in L.A., really.
So I just spent a couple hours at D’s and came home. I bought some wine at Hi-Time, where the usual yuppie guys were there explaining wine to each other. There are always two rich guys explaining to each other how great their taste is and how expensive the wine is that they drink. “Oh wow, Craig, look here. They have a 3 liter of the Futon-Pressé ‘89. That’s my favorite wine, really it is. I have cases of it. You should try it!” “Great, Sean! I personally like this Stürmbahnfuhrermilchen that only comes in casks and is delivered to your house by Gypsy slaves..”
Okay, guys. I’ll just sneak out with my really, really tasty $15 bottle of Napa Valley claret. I assume one of them had the $100,000 Porsche with the ugly chrome rims on it out front.
Last week consisted of DBD::Oracle, insomnia, miscommunication, good food, and Miles Davis. What will next week bring?