I bought a ticket to see They Might Be Giants on Sunday at the student center on campus. It's a terrible place to see bands, and I have to run over from work at 8:30pm, but I couldn't resist. They've been my consistently favorite band for a long time. I just counted the years in my head and it feels better to say, "a long time" than thirteen.
Yes, it's two a.m. I got home from work, tired, went to sleep at six, went to lie on the couch at eight, woke again at one. Now the apartment is quiet, even the cat sleeps. And I'm propped up on the crusty feeling of having slept too much, but still not coherent. I maybe should have eaten dinner. My stomach says Hi.
I left work today, more bitterness, more anger, everybody tense. And when I'm stressed I sleep. Looking ahead for the next week, 10 pages of play due Sunday, 10 pages due Wednesday morning … mini-break from work to visit family, and then it starts again. Sometimes the big picture is too depressing. Sometimes I need a magnifying glass.
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