Woke up from the deep dark dungeous of my shattered and scattered sleep, managed to lug myself into the main area to eat some reheated homemade chicken rice pilaf, watch some Futurama on Netflix, and the slouch back to the computer to write to you lovely people about mt life and my day.

It just occurred to me, though. My bad sleep involves intense, surreal, otherworldly visions along with feeling really hot and sweating profusely. There is only one possible explanation.

I am my own sweat lodge. That would explain so much, would it not?

Except my lack of spiritual progress.

Had wacky dreams, but I still cannot seem to develop any enthusiasm for retelling them or even retaining them at all. I am sure they all mean something or whatever, but at this phase of existence, I honestly feel like paying the slightest attention to them would only encourage them.

Blah blah, getting lost, yadda yadda, not being able to find some important thing, whatever whatever, not able to actually complete thins, rah rah sim boom bah, who gives a shit. I am too tired for transcendence and so all this is just random graffiti on the projection screen of my consciousness.

All it does is make it harder to see the picture. There might be cast cosmic clues in there but I di not give a fuck, I am through with guessing games. Either tell me or leave me alone. I am not going to jump through hoops trying to guess what you mean just because you cloak you sadism in the idea that you are encouraging me to stretch myself and grow.

Fuck that. Tell me or leave me the fuck alone.

I am so sleepy right now. These words are coming slow and hard. There are days when doing this is effortless, like breathing out words, and other days, like this, when each letter is a hair I have yanked from my head and pressed to the page.

Honestly, if it was just a little earlier, I would just go to sleep right now and finish writing this when I awoke. But it is 9 pm, and I might well sleep past midnight if I did that, and then I would have missed the deadline for today’s diary entry.

And that would not be acceptable. One thing I have learned is that, for an undisciplined wretch like me, discipline has to be ramrod rigid. There can not be the slightest flexibility or it will just snap. A small flex turns into a big flex and the nest thing toy know, the purpose and direction you had when you were abke to sustain the focus and drive to do something are a lone distant bittersweet memory.

So I will do my best to fill my thousand words before I pass out completely and end up in a heap of sweat, drooling on my carpet, curled up around the wheels of my computer chair like a liquored up Stephen Hawking passed out after a math bender.

Half way there.

Hada pretty normal day. Letting Zombie Finger take in the air sans Band-aid or other covering. Feels good to let that whole area sweat and breath freely. There is still enough dead skin in the affected area that it feels like I am wearing a tighter than skin tight glove on it, but it grows better all the time and I am sure I will feel better there soon enough.

The area of, um, excess zeal in cleaning the area up still hurts a little. A good reminder not to mess with that area at all, even though I have been sorely tempted a few times today when I could feel the dangly end itching, calling out for me to give it a tug.

But last time I did that, I started to bleed and it hurt a lot and most disturbingly, a chunk of flesh horrifyingly close to the fingernail starting coming with it, and so far it looks like I will keep that finernails despite Doctor Wong from the Er’s warnings, and I want to keep it that way.

Must feel pretty weird to have a finger with no fingernail on it. At least that would be one finger that did not need cleaning under the nail all the time, I suppose. But still, I bet it would make people stare. You would have to get some of those Lee Press On Nail for that finger only, just so it looked right to other peole,

75 percent there.

Been skipping meals again lately. It is a bad habit, especially for a diabetic like me, but the truth is, it is an easy way to get my blood sugar down. And it must work, because it almost always ends up making me feel somewhat better, at least until the crash.

So I suppose it is sort of like a drug addiction too. High on blood sugar instability, yay!

And what the hell, maybe it will even help me lose weight. I sure can spare some.

Still no sign of my two tax checks, one federal one GST, that should be coming in the mail soon. I really, really need the money. Got to pay the internet bill, pay off Joe for the hotel room at VancouFur, and hopefully still have enough left to cover my life expenses till the 25th, my next cheque.

Damn I need to get more money into my life. Lack of funds is one of the biggest causes of my depressiopn and anxiety. I feel like I am always up against the wall with the wolves at the dorr and saran wrap in lard on all the doorknobs.

Boy, that would smell gross.

Well, that’s it for tonight, my dear friends. Thanks for reading my sleepy rambling thoughts and being a part of the closest thing I have to a job.

You do not have o do, and you do.

Now I lay me down to sleep.