Thieves and Liars

Not much will be done today at work. With only a few hours of sleep in my body and The Good Doctor out of the country, I’m thinking of napping later. My office has a door that shuts and locks. At first this was a joke, but I might actually do it. After I finish the few things I have for today, I’ll be getting paid either to play on the internet, read, or nap. And I need a nap more than the others right now. I’m so tired I’m dizzy, my head aches, and my typing fingers do not coordinate to functioning very well. Scanning back through recent blog posts, I see that disjunctive sleep has become more regular. I don’t remember the drive to work this morning, except that it was slower than normal and there was a guy driving an Infiniti the same color as my Grace behind me, and a girl in a green Pontiac to my right, throwing her head about while singing. She had red hair. Cokie Roberts was talking politics on the radio which I didn’t have turned up loud enough to comprehend.

Every thing is built on perception set askew by each person’s cumulative wiring, and this is making me grimace today. Causes are fuzzy and intangible, effects moreso ad infinitum. Not everybody sees this. It makes me grimace; it makes me forlorn.

Our neighbor Chuck had 12 free tickets to see Ministry at the Starland Ballroom in Sayreville last night. I hadn’t listened to Ministry in a long while, except for a song here and there that happened to play somewhere. The show was good, but much louder than I realized as my ears tell me now. It was good to re-conjure a place I once was, the way my head heard the songs and the way my body reacted, in high school, in early college. The band that opened, Hanzel und Gretyl, was fronted by a disputable girl. She was, I at last concluded, a girl. Long dyed-red hair in pig tails, short black leather skirt, tall black boots, black net stockings. You might think the above ensemble would obviously suggest girl, but she had deathy lungs that wrenched out a deeply deathy scream nearly every song, which was very masculine. I gave it a whirl myself and was able to growl out a few comparable tones but came away fully impressed she could do a whole show that way. She made the guy who growled a song or two seem rather mediocre-puss.

Not long before Ministry ended, some guy began kicking Chuck's ass. We had rented a wheelchair for Mark, and as we were wheeling him out Chuck ran up in front of us jabbering about some fucked-up guy, and I was thinking "yeah, whatever, out of the way, pal." Then I looked up and he had a couple of shiners. The fucked-up guy also managed to yank away Chuck's ear jewels. The odd thing is that Chuck didn't know this guy, wasn't even interacting with the guy. The guy just decided on a whim: I'm gonna kick that guy's ass.

There it is. We went home. Sleep was difficult. I am here.