5:45 p.m. Monday, March Whatever, 2009.
In my wife’s office. Laptop on lap. iTunes playing “Paper Planes” (M.I.A.), “Gold Digger” (Kanye East), “Once in a Lifetime” (Yapping Heads), “My Name is Prince” (I forget the name of the artist), “My Name Is” (by Eminememenemen), and other such songs for people like me who, dagnabit, ain’t dead yet.
Wife cutting photography mat.
Last night she and I watched the movie “Zodiac.”
Later last night I dreamed that I was wanted for murdering three people, which (in my dream) I had to do, because they had magical powers that allowed them to kill cats at a distance.
I mean, how unacceptable is that?
I’ll spare you the details of how I killed these evil kitty killers. Let’s just say sacks were involved. And a wall.
Too gruesome.
But efficient!
When I awoke this morning, I had a pretty bad crick in my neck. Now I can’t look over my left shoulder.
Hey! I think a bird just banged into Cat’s window!
Okay, so is there anything about life that isn’t intensely bizarre?
