Went home to sleep after a few days. Warm, comfortable beds are good. 12 hours of emulating a petrified log later, my eyelids are open on their own accord. (As opposed to being propped up by little twigs made of caffeine.)
However, it’s times like this I wish I were something analogous to a president (no names here) of a country. You know, the kinds that have huge armies of violent people under their command willing to carry out their order. So I can look at life and go “Bring it on!” (or something similar) and relax at home with the kids or my cat or whatever, while my minions do the deeds I ask them to – vanquish my foes. (In a sort of gung ho way – “Terminate with extreme prejudice” sort of thing.) I wish I were cool (or dumb) enough to go “Bring it on!”.
And there has been some talk about me having to “reconsider” my trip back home. Hmm.
Update: Listened to Incubus :: A Crow Left Of The Murder… :: Megalomaniac some 17 times over an hour and a half or some such. Ah yes, the ability to sing (offtuneishly) along. Think I’m in love. Floria Sigismondi.