And it was propably bad. Possibly very bad.

It all started with pants.

I was putting on my pants, which is easily one of the most dangerous things a fat person does on a daily basis, when I felt this twinge of pain in my had then got very dizzy and had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling and breaking my neck, as my mom would say.

Moms think their children’s necks have the structural integrity of a wet toothpick.

Anyhow, so I stagger over to the bed and collapse, feeling like the room is spinning at a considerable clip, and I notice my nose is running, so I grab a Kleenex to wipe.

Turns out, it’s blood.

So to recap, I felt a twinge of pain in my brain, got very dizzy, then my nose bled.

That seems like a very bad sign to me. It certainly would be in movies and TV. That’s the kind of thing hack writers love to use to foreshadow the person getting seriously sick. Like with cancer or AIDS or tuberculosis.

That last one is mostly for Les Miserables.

So I am kind of worried,. Luckily, I already have another appointment with my GP because his office called me today because he wants to discuss my test results.

Because of how great they are, obviously.

Perhaps he wants to give me a medal.

Sadly, the appointment isn’t until a week from today, so that will leave me a lot of time to fret over things.

And the thing is, I haven’t felt quite right ever since the incident. I am still kind of dizzy and I feel a little weak. A little frail.

So it’s a bit of a struggle to keep my long-buried hypochondria at bay while still paying proper attention to my healh.

Kind of like I am walking against the current in a cold river.

A river of fear.

And trout. And maybe just a tiny bit of bear poop.

But it’s mostly the fear thing.

I use comedy to deal with stress!

I am currently fairly behind on sleep. That might have been a factor. There is nothing a lack of sleep can’t make worse.

I had one of those incidents where I am 3/4 asleep when I suddenly get this supercharge of energy like I just mainlined a triple espresso, and that kept me from getting proper sleep and threw me off quite a bit.

I tried to do the smart thing and finally took my sleeping pill for the first time in ages. I recently realized that I was back to not being able to sleep for more than an hour and a half before my bladder woke me up demanding I empty it.

The pee part is a new wrinkle, but otherwise, I have been here before. It’s the whole reason I asked for sleeping pills in the first place.

So while my literal lack of sleep is recent, my lack of deep REM sleep has been building for a long time and I really should be taking my sleeping pill every single time I go to bed, but I don’t.

Why? Because they make it so hard to wake up in the morning.

Seems like a kind of petty and stupid and childish reason when I type it out like that.

So back on the sleepytime pills I go. Better to have a hard time waking up after a good five solid hours of sleep than to have lots of shitty quality hours of sleep that don’t really do me all that much good

It happens so slowly, though. This degradation of sleep quality. When I first went off the snooze pills, my sleep stayed good for a while.

So like an idiot, I thought I didn’t need them any more.

That also sounds pretty idiotic all typed out like that.

What else. Therapy tomorrow. Going to tell my shrink about my newly discovered mutant public speaking abilities.

He will probably think I am suffering from petit mal delusions of grandeur, or at least that I am “letting my imagination run wild” or somesuch.

So be it. This is not the kind of thing that is easy for people to understand. My tales of extreme effect on crowds sound like science fiction even to me.

But they are all 100 percent true. Apparently I have some kind of gift.

I have always felt a sense of greatness and destiny within me. I assumed this was just a product of having been a super gifted kid and people telling me that I was going to go on to do great things some day.

Fooled you! I’m 45 and I still haven’t even started my life.

And the strict rational materialist in me know that there is no such thing as destiny and whatever I feel calling to me out there is really in here, in my mind.

But tell that to my emotions, because I definitely feel a call. And slowly but surely, it is getting louder, and I am running out of reasons to resist it.

Besides raw, cold, naked fear, of course.

Plus I am still working out how I shall launch myself into the world of public debate.

And more importantly than those little details. I wonder what my persona slash editorial voice will be. Because I am a pretty divided dude.

One part of me wants to lauch myself into the opionionsphere like a meteor with a grudge and lay waste to all the ignorant motherfuckers killing the world with their civilization destroying stupidity. I want to hit the world like a drone strike and shake shit up all over the political landscape. The political debates all over the world could use someone to come in and clean house on these fools.

And once I show them the way, otherwise will join me, and maybe we will get shit done.

So let’s call that side Raging Bull.

But another part of me, let’s call him Secular Jesus, wants everyone to get along. he rejects the narrative of conflict and wants to rescue the conservatives from the evil clutches of bad shepherds.

He wants to find common ground with them, like a good humanist, and show people that under all the arguments, we’re really all the same.

And a third side of me just wants to do whatever makes the money, honey .He doesn’y give a shit about anything except getting his hands on currency so he can build himself a luxurious lifestyle, and will cynically manipulate anyone to make it happen.

So I dunno. At some point, I will have to stop dithering and make my bed.

But for now, it is time to lay down and watch the room spin.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.