helicopters

They aren't ever anything good, are they. I mean even if you're being rescued by one out at sea, it means you're out at sea and need rescuing.

I think in this case they are likely newsies covering the last of the moron protesters (read: deadbeat hippies) sitting in trees on campus. Yes, save the landscaping. Nevermind all the valuable time you could be putting in volunteering at the real actual regional park a mile away - or heaven forbid, taking care of real actual humans. Some people give everyone else a bad name. Stupid false heroics.

Nearing hour 24. I remember once, after many days of ingesting alterants, I asked a friend, "Are things getting really weird, or is it just me?" He said, "No."

And so it is. The fog and dim light and my sore eye and woozy head, the snippets of conversation, the seemingly prophetic graffiti... these are all symptoms of synapses slow to synch. This is your brain off its rhythm. Off meds, now that I think about it. Rectifying that now...

Strange how easily chemistry can lose syncopation, and how hard it is to tell the beat is off. The world is strange. People are doing strange, doomsday-like things. It does seem reasonable that the sirens should start screaming at any moment. The other day, the ground shook hard, twice, and then stopped. It does that sometimes. Sometimes it's my neighbors. Either way, everything rattles.

I say, I think I'm nocturnal. Snow says, will you ghost around in a white night-dress? It sounds appealing. I've discovered weaving disconcertingly keeps people from panhandling me, whether I do it on purpose or not. Similarly, I can't really imagine anyone would mess with a 30-something insomniac purposelessly haunting my street.

Gonna fix the off-kilter chems. Going to stay up until it's dark, and hopefully sleep until it's light. Less ghosting, more of well, whatever else it is.