Dont Mind Me It's Incremental

This is obnoxious. Why, in my one moment of complete permittance to compensate for last nights complete lack of repose with a feeble nap, do I suddenly feel inspired to write on this blog? That blog. Don't answer and I will stop asking. It's a shame that they don't have anything analogous to a 12-step process for those that compulsively confound themselves. Oh well.

The story of the day is not related to this post of the day. Reason being that I am unaware of any stories of the day.

I was up with Ivor at a ridiculously early hour. Acrtually, the hour was still late. Blurrily staggering, I proclaim to myself and to others that I got some rest, because my blinks were like Morse code to Morpheus, like, "Nooooooooooo!" But it wasn't, you know, restorative blinking.

Now Desy's drumming anyway, so I don't think it so strange that I'm awake. He plays loudly, but with a handle on dynamics that expresses something subverbal that evades his hyperarticulate precocity. I am so, so happy that he has that venue. My parents just sent me a beautiful new crash cymbal for my birthday (tomorrow), and its resonance is very warm and embracing. To hear Desmond play with it is so magical.

Aaaaaaaaaaand hypnotic. Now I have to nap. Crap. More soon.
(elapsed 19 hours)

Yes. Well, now I'm thirty four, which is neither here nor there, but my visit last night from the birthday surgeon gave me one obvious white hair near each of my ears. That shit is real.

For everything that defies logic, there is a logical trajectory. I don't know what that means or why that matters, but I desperately need another nap, for sure.

I'm often asked what I want for my birthday. Generally speaking, I don't want much of anything except exemption from unpleasant variousnesses (examples: barking creditors, abrupt neighbors, passive-aggressive mock-friends, my 2 children pummeling each other, loneliness in a state where we feel exiled, headaches, thwarted attempts at romance with my one true love, et al.), which en toto feels exactly like a gift.

Another gift: the right to NAP. Which I'll do now.

(elapsed 2 hours)

I didn't nap, and I should've. I gave up on it when Pat Sajak appeared in some hypnagogic depth. I was like, "This ruinous image can't be overwritten in time for me to enjoy the remainder of the day." So, I went for a walk with Molly, Desmond, and Ivor.


  1. I think the muse for writing is a puckish pain-in-the-butt who thinks its awesome to show up when you are exhausted.