Bad Dreams

Woke tangled in my sleeping bag, about to fall on the floor. That recurrent dream where I'm doing something on top of about six sections of scaffolding that isn't properly cross-braced. A cold sweat. I slow my heart beat by thinking about driving across Kansas. Whatever works. When I wake like this, I don't know what to do with myself. I can't go back to sleep (the yawning pit) so what I usually do is get up, make a cup of espresso, roll a smoke, and start another paragraph. I need to do my laundry, stiff socks and soiled underwear; I need to stay home and read more; I need, most of all, a place to which I can retreat. Xenephon, "Anabasis". And I'm almost there, I've given up almost everything. I still hold on to a shred of decency, I only pick at my navel when I'm alone; but for the most part, what you see is what you get. I never campaigned on the side of righteousness. L. Ron and that whole pile of crap. Finally did get back to sleep, on the floor downstairs, where daylight would more likely wake me. It did, but barely, and I didn't have time to shave. Staff meeting, then Tuesday chores which always means garbage, especially after an opening. I need a Junior Assistant Janitor, truth be known I'm tired of mopping and cleaning toilets. I don't even have running water at my house, and I'm cleaning other people's toilets. No mas, as Duran famously said, eighth round, the second fight with Sugar Ray. I hate boxing, fighting generally, but I love language and that is so pure, 'no more'. On the 31st of this month I'll have $550 to spend on a computer and I'm extremely confused. I think I'm just going to buy a new main frame, then save money until I can buy an I-pad with a detachable keyboard and batteries. I'll probably have access to a satellite connection soon, and I would save money, and be able to write for five hours after the power went out; any given night that would be 42 lines, which I consider a full page and a major accomplishment. I don't achieve it that often, because I'm a slacker, and it's hard to be coherent. I'm irritable, right now, for whatever reason; can't put my finger on it, exactly, but it has to do with the way I'm perceived by others. I know it doesn't matter, but it still bothers me. Maybe I just am a janitor.