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“my heart is drenched in wine…
but you’ll be on my mind…
...forever”

Holy shit.

I have been up past four aye emm the last 4 nights in a row or so… not in-the-least-bit (that’s one word) tired. My mind isn’t necessarily churning anything useful during that time. I just simply can not seem to wind down without pharmaceutical assistance. I’m not diametrically opposed to such ingestion. I hate that it has become a prerequisite. I’ve tried to maintain a level of sociability with geographically convenient friends rather than succumb to hermitism (is that a word?). I dig the thought of not seeing or talking to anyone, but it is so completely against the grain of my personality to be isolated. I’ve been in a lot of pain. Other than being inexplicably emotional recently (always well concealed), I’ve not been able to shake this aching muscle cramping in my back and shoulders despite an ass kicking deep tissue massage at a reputable five-star salon in town administered by a arguably militant, large, black woman. At times, I thought I might cry. It’s rapidly approaching two and I’m wide awake. Not only must I work early, I have a conference call right off. The plan is to avoid speaking. My brain already hurts at the envisioning of dragging my ass out of bed in the morning. Henry suffers the most. He struggles to stay conscious and ride out daddy’s insomnia by his side with his fluttery little heavy eyelids. My plan to spend a significant amount of time in the yard this weekend was foiled by frequent rain showers. I managed a little here and there, but mostly I avoided the elements opting for A/C and icy libations. Just when you think there may actually be light at the end of the tunnel, you get a lung full of soot and dirt in your eye.