yawn, stretch, zzzzzzzzz.

There are a number of reasons that I could be feeling the way that I do. Eighty percent of my food comes out of a dumpster. I wake up at the ass crack of dawn and go to Neu Isenburg hungover on three hours of sleep. The weather is fucking crazy schizophrenic. I smoke things. I just stopped drinking coffee.

Ding ding ding! I think we have a winner, Alex.

After a week of panic attacks, I figured I better start cutting a chemical or two out of my life. Coffee gone. Panic gone. Except now it’s kind of like I just quit a four-year long speed habit cold turkey, and I’m pretty much useless.

My day goes something like this. Wake up. Roll over and go back to sleep. Wake up. Groggily spend an hour drinking a glass of water. Think about going back to sleep. Go to work instead. Work for an hour and a half. Come home and take a three-hour nap. Fummel around for a few hours, and then go to bed. This must be what it feels like to be 110 years old. Christ.

But I get a little more energetic at night. Which probably means? Which probably means I’m turning into a vampire. I suppose that’s not so bad. I pretty much only wear black anyway. At least this won’t require any new clothing.

The doctor just smiled her a-fresh-batch-of-cookies-and-a-red-steak-would-fix-you-right-up smile (feels more like a grimace from this end) and prescribed me herbal circulation drops. Fucking German doctors. They have an herb for everything. Theoretically I should be happy about this, but shit, I want the hard shit. Give me some spee…hey wait a minute, isn’t that where this whole problem started? God damn it. Time for another nap.

0 Comments on “yawn, stretch, zzzzzzzzz.

  1. I feel YOUR pain. I am scared, so so scared of being stuck on a desert island without coffee. I would sleep all the livelong day under my banana-leaf canopy.

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