Friday, February 23, 2007

Fucking Stress...

No comment.

(Hours later...)

Yeah, I know you know. But the stress isn't lessened. I'm a pussy, a fucking wreck. The bloody Ambien doesn't even work. I sleep five hours, sometimes six.* (At least I'm sleeping at night.)

Wouldn't wish this on anyone? Okay, Cheney, Bush, etc. They can have it. One set of tumors to Dubya for Iraq, another cluster of metastasized glop to Dickless for their cynical goddamned opposition to stem-cell research...

My incipient madness will have an effect on our music, so stay tuned. The story of my decline is bound to be more arresting than that dreadful Daniel Johnston film. He had a head start - he was born crazy...

TS

* (I've just realized I typed the word "sick" for "six." Please, someone, page Professor Freud...)