It doesn't feel like breakfast though. I remember waking up around half past two Sunday afternoon, being puzzled for several hours, then going back to sleep around ten o'clock at night and waking up again at two o'clock this morning. It's still dark outside, and rather cold, but the apartment is still warm despite the fan being on. Everything is just a bit odd, but odd these days seems oddly normal. At least it's familiar.
It's been more than 24 hours since I last paid attention to anything that could be considered news. I have no idea what has gone on in the world during that time and really don't want to. I have my reconstituted potato chips and sour cream and beer, and what does anything else have to do with me anyway? I'm probably not where I think I am in any case. I can still see the moon, but the sun ought to be rising in a while and maybe I'll go back to sleep. Life is just six of one, half a million of the other, and nobody knows which is which. I certainly don't. For all I know, hypnagogia is now my permanent state.
Might as well. Can't dance.