Getting out of bed is a bloody bloodshed you can do without

I woke up at eleven this morning. I have not slept that late in a long while. Losing a small chunk of the day notwithstanding, I feel pretty good about it. I have fractured dream recollections of sun-coated views of the ocean seen from a friend's deck and ghostly wanderings through the woods behind my childhood home. Speaking to the latter, I have a feeling these wanderings, which are reoccurring, are journeys to hidden and favorable realms of existence. Either that, or just some scraping the walls of my subconscious.

Late in the night, I woke up and had no idea who I was for at least ten seconds. Complete amnesia. I nearly panicked as I paced around the room wondering where and who I was. Those ten seconds were very long. This has happened before, years ago.


I spent about half the day cleaning the kitchen yesterday. I had posted a note on the fridge on Thursday stating my intentions and that if anyone was available to assist me, a high five would be in it for them. I didn't expect any takers - especially given the relatively short notice and the fact that high fives aren't the commodity they once were, but the place needed some cleaning and I was ok with doing some. Fred was out of the house bright and early to go hiking and Matt had a friend over.

I had ambitions to clean the whole house, but the kitchen was a lot of work and, besides, I'm not a housekeeper. I have two roommates who are able-bodied and can help out. So, I stuck to the kitchen; I went to town on the fridge, mopped, scrubbed, etc. I had music playing, it wasn't a terrible time. I did get a lingering headache as a result (all those cleaning chemicals and dust, I reckon) that is still dully with me as I type.

Hung out with Spira and Missy D. last night. We had Peruvian food delivered and watched Michael Ruppert preach his gospel in Collapse, which Spira fell asleep to almost immediately ("He has a soothing voice", she said sleepily when I nudged her awake). She rebounded and became engaged.

I'm wondering if I should practice some yoga. I think the answer will be yes. I could use some energy and perhaps it will enliven my senses, which are still sleep-addled (one reason I don't like sleeping too late). I hope the house will be a quiet one today. Yesterday, Matt was playing rockabilly kind of loud, there was a lousy cover band drifting in through the windows from some unknown location, and my mother's screeching, nagging voice filled my brain with chatter ("When are you going to shingle my Roof? Why don't you love me? My friend's son visits her all the time - what's your excuse?"). Oh, I'm just kidding about my mom. Really, she's lovely. Except when she's not. Hey, we're all fallible. We're human effin beings, damnit!

Ok, I'm out this piece, you practitioners of the dark arts.