You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To

The arms of Morpheus never found me last night, so I got up and rumbled around my room. I considered going for a walk at around 1am, but it was quite cold out and I had no interest in putting clothes on. No more than my night-shirt and socks, anyway. I never took my socks off from the day before so as to avoid the ritual of painstakingly arranging them on the floor. So in various ways I endeavored to spend the time before me as best I could. It wasn't easy, as I was really looking forward to a sleep-induced time warp to get me through the night. My friends were very much on my mind, and lately I feel truly despised. Have you ever been sick, and your partner and/or family was forced to take care of you for a bit? In return, you feel like a terrible burden. That's how I feel all the fucking time.

But I had my closest friend to comfort me last night, my Donna. I genuinely believe she loves me, and I even think that she understands me as much as any one person can understand another. I talked to other people, but their contributions weren't of any consquence. That's not a criticism, it's just the way things are, and the way they went. The only other interaction of importance never happened, with a young girl I happen to love; I got the brush off. I'm not angry, or even irritated, it's all very predictable.

Here's how the rest of the early morning went:

2am: Listened to the music of Cole Porter, Nina Simone, Tchaikovsky, The Kinks and Prince on my computer while playing World of Warcraft. You can't fathom how satisfying it is to kill a "mosshide gnoll" with Prince's Pussy Control blaring in the background. Priceless.

3:30am: Tried and failed to get aforementioned young lady on the phone to discuss status of "relationship." Then spoke, via Yahoo! Messenger with a friend from Florida. Took a Zomig and 800mg ibuprofen for a migraine, along with 5 single miligram lorazepam for sleep. Headache was dimmed, but sleep remained elusive.

4:00am: Made an Asiago and cream cheese sandwich on an Everything bagel, became vaguely ill. Watched the second half of Joss Whedon's Serenity. My conclusion is that it was better than I thought it would be.

4:45am: Picked my nose for a couple of minutes, then read Sheryl Monks' A Girl at his Show, a piece of short fiction that won some sort of award and was printed in Backwards City Review. They print comics, prose and poetry and have contests...good magazine. I accidentally underpaid for my subscription ($10 instead of $12) but they let me have it anyway. Out of North Carolina, I believe.

5:45am: Considered masturbating to a picture of Nicole Kidman's ass (from Eyes Wide Shut) that I have on my cork board. But I was too depressed, anxious, tired and suicidal to do that.

5:47am: Masturbated anyway.

6:07am: Got into a fierce argument with some fellow in a religious chatroom about meta-ethical relativism and the differences between the Christian and Zoroastrian worldview concerning good vs. evil. I ended up calling him a "douchebag" and told him that I pray for President Bush's death every day. He said that it is illegal to say that, and is going to report me to the FBI. I responded, "Go ahead, you walking cunt."

7:25am: Made coffee and threw pistachios for Impy to chase.

That's about it. I'm probably going to vomit soon from the lack of sleep...ever get that? Cole Porter is magnificent. Actually, this song isn't his, but man it's beautiful. Anyway, Cheers.

You'd be so nice to come to
You'd be so nice by the fire
While the breeze on high, sang a lullaby
You'd be all that I could desire
Under stars chilled by the winter
Under an August moon burning above
You'd be so nice
You'd be paradise, to come home to and love