Hank
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Poster: Hank @ Thu Jan 08, 2009 8:17 am
I returned from a relaxing vacation in icy Indiana to discover that, as usual, every and each doggone thing in the universe had rearranged itself into the configuration most cleverly calculated to cause me distress, agony, and terror. After a bad, comfortless night back at the ranch, what I really needed was to survive yesterday with at least 20% of my mind and body intact, go home, and tumble down the blissful black Slip-N-Slide of exhaustion to land peacefully in the inflatable tar pool of utter conkitude. Instead, what I got was a 15% cell-survival rate and a barrage of late-night calls, the latter cunningly spaced to ensure that just as I returned home from each call and entered the hazy, hopeful interzone of near-snooze, the demonic Motorola would again erupt and untimely rip me from the womb. This brutish Satanic comedy culminated in a 3:45am call which, by the time it was resolved, left me too spent to drive back home -- especially since I'd only net, at very best, a couple hours' sleep before the evil twang of the 'Spartus' alarm clock pierced the dew. Therefore, the past few hours have been spent, variously :
Curled up on the floor of the unheated office building, attempting not to have all the thermal energy sucked from my carcass by a carpet that, as far as I can tell, is woven out of superconducting fibers.
Listening to classical guitar on the Internet radio, and wondering if one can listen to smug virtuoso Ana Vidovic without being a sick creep, or if her marketing tactics alone make downloading her version of 'Five Bagatelles' essentially equivalent to sauntering into the local 7-11 and asking for the latest issue of 'Barely Legal'
Reading the Latewire
Looking up information about Aline Crumb and her 'comix' work, which apparently predated her meeting with current husband R. Crumb.
Doubting the possibility of surviving another 12 hours
Trying to type, but finding my fingers to be immobilized from extreme cold
Warming up fingers by gripping microwaved mug of water, then burning self as water splashes
Thinking about potato pancakes and wondering if it's going to be possible for me to fake consciousness for the remainder of the day
The lesson here, folks, is : whatever it is that you're counting on to alleviate the agony of being, it's probably going to to be absent when you most need it. The only thing that will be there when you need it is the great pain valve : LATEWIRE
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