facts and other things

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Last night I couldn’t sleep.  Laying in bed for an hour and I half, I listened to Iron and Wine and felt something heavy resting on my chest.  When the room started to spin around 4, I got up, had breakfast, and wrote a paper.

Littered across the floral carpet in our living room are tiny orange pieces.  After a moment of brow-furrowing, I notice they are spilling out of a foil bag suggesting they are a miniature cousin of Cheez-its.   Branded “Grips.”  (ha.)

This weekend, my father broke his toe.  After stubbing it, he decided it was no cause for alarm and proceeded to take a 4 mile hike.   Upon removing his sock and discovering his toe was purple and deformed, he considered stopping at the emergency room before work.  He made sure to leave a half-an-hour early.

Everyone keeps telling me I must be having a panic attacks. I keep shrugging, and not giving a shit whether they are or not.  What good is naming something if that’s all you have to say about it?

Lately, I have been constantly dehydrated.  No matter how much water I drink or chapstick I apply, I can’t seem to do much about my hard dry lips.

Earlier, I was looking at her sitting where I am now, and I mentioned it was funny how thin the line is between neuroses that incapacitate and those that make an individual highly effective.

I got a new YelloBeat this evening (that time before the sun came up).  Went Driving.  Almost ran over a woodchuck, or whatever other furry four legged creature that was that ran in my way.

Turning down my street, I got to thinking about dreaming.  I don’t regret my dreams – any I had then or still have now.  Dreams keep from you shriveling up, keeping you limber until you can make your reality into something you’re pround to claim.

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