Twice through the night. At least twice, One time I screamed “WHO ARE YOU?” The other time I don’t remember what I said, or if it was articulate. I was certain an intruder was coming at me. That is always a thrilling feeling, if that’s the right word. I imagine it is a woman arriving to satisfy a sexual concept that had flashed through my dreamscape. Then I assume it is a thug come to whallop me at my most vulnerable. I remember someone saying your facial expression whil defecating was “Your most humble pose.” Maybe that’s true? I don’t even know but I made video of my face whilst shitting a couple of weeks ago. I did not watch. It was intended to be video of me masturbating but the need to shit overwhelmed that desire. It was a good, solid, thorough hunk of turd, too. Not the kind I’m used to delivering here at the office. The time here does not usually align with my body’s usual routines in that realm. I’m working the July 4th holiday. I’ve worked all the major holidays this year. I like to work. Today will be quiet. DOn’t knwo if I should pop at least a BP pill today. The pills do make the days feel calmer. Almost said “clamer.” Clammer. Clammier. Went ahead and popped the pills. BP and anxiety. I don’t like popping them if I don’t feel it absolutely necessary but I think I may adjust that perspective. I did not sleep much last night and these pills could put me to sleep. I could never do the overnight shift here. GOing out for lunch at 3am would never feel normal. When I woke up screaming last night I was reminded of what a pain in the ass I am to sleep with. I’m good at the sex and all but actually trying to sleep normal is impossible with me. It’s been that way since childhood. My mother and I traveled somewhere when I was 8 or 9 years old, and we had to share a bed. I guess it was to save money. I was never much of a mama’s boy in that respect. Howard Stern made fun of Elvis for sleeping with his mother until he was like 14, I think? I barely remember ever doing that. But when it happened she would talk for days about how wild I was, sleeping directly on top of her like she was the mattress, then grabbing her face and almost choking her. Women of my adulthood have made similar comments. The woman I was with the longest informed me that I scream a lot more than I would have thought. If I know of two episodes last night there were likely more. I set up a camera to document myself sleeping. I am the thrasher I expected but the camera’s mic failed to capture much of the yawps. I uncovered a story I started writing about an encounter with an ex. It’s a true story interspersed with self-myth. I loved her, though. I always will.