When the alarm wakes me up, I wake up angry. The alarm going off at 4:30am is the last chance, the last gasp at being on time. Waking up on time means beating the alarm by a half hour or more. Of course for me being on time means being an hour early. But still, when the alarm kicks off I get angry, and I stay that way. I feel OK now, over 2 hours later. But waking up angry might be worse than going to sleep angry.
I dreamt of skeeping in a stranger’s bed. He and his woman were OK with it. I don’t know why, except I must have looked pretty harmless in my deep sleep. I was tired as hell yesterday, and I interpret a dream in which I am sleeping deep to mean that I wanted double sleep, triple sleep, multiple layers and strata of eternal sleep.
I have plans for the coming three days. A payphone in Jamaica awaits, along with a phone booth in Brooklyn. I’ve been foing my unique brand of forensic research into where the old booths and phones remain. I took a full 2mg pill today. After yesterday’s twitchy anxiety day I felt it prudent. This is my Friday. Monday is my Friday. I just took a spastic, unexpected shit. An embarrassing 3-flush affair on account of me dropping the wipes at the front of the basin, where the water runs weakest. I had to manually push one of the wads of shitted tissue toward the drain to make it go. Even there a third flush was necessary. No one is around so the embarrassment is muted. But at least I felt better upon completion of the unexpected evacuation. I may have eaten something expired this AM.
She sent a photo of herself in bed, captioned “…we wake up together.” I like waking up together with a woman. It’s when I feel friskiest, and horniest. These feelings do not always align. So I wait. All things considered I am basically always ready, just depends how complicated external circumstances are. I gotta go.