Not All Of What Follows Is True

A recurring journal of mixed veracity.

Monday, June 02, 2003

When I wake up, the TV's still on. Some Texan singer is spouting platitudes at a talking head with a Brylcreem endorsement, and the radio's telling me about exploding Japanese ships off the coast of Norway -- inflatable barriers have been erected -- all very spectacular, I hope there'll be some footage on TV later, as long as no one was hurt, obviously, I'm not a ghoul it's just I've never seen a ship blow up and then sink which is as complete a destruction as a ship can ask for this isn't really going anywhere I should probably get up.

I hate it when my mind races in the morning like this.

Cold tea by the bed. Take a sip, it can't kill you. Not exactly nice, but it's better than a poke in the mouth with a sharp stick, and it takes away some of the gummed-up dryness.

Shower. TV's still on when I get out. TV's been on all night. That was stupid. Flick it off, no need for Kilroy.

Black coffee for breakfast. We're out of tea. And milk.
A week ago this morning she was still here.

The sun's out. I should get out of the house.
It rained hard on Tuesday. I defied it ever to stop.

I should get out of the house.