Oh, look! I am journaling in a little memo pad notebook like it's 1993 again. Though, I think the years have disabused me of the fantasy that I am becoming the next Proust. It's a mood, I guess. I want to see on paper what I am thinking. It does have the advantage of feeling like a dialogue. The blank paper is always asking you questions: what happened? what do I want to do? what exactly am I worried about? can we at least be a little funny about this? Maybe my loneliness has cut yet another level deeper, so that I really need something that is at least dialogue-like. And it's not as though I can carry a computer around and blog as conveniently. In the end, I will probably just keep a few of my more inspired lines for the blog and then toss the notebook in the trash. It's a little like the Willem Dafoe movie "Light Sleeper". ... ... I had to give my feet a good dirty-water bath. We were deluged last night, and I didn't think to bring the trash bins to the front. So, I had to wade through the water. I really hate that. It's one of the bad hits about moving to this house. It's like we're at the bottom of the hill, and all the shit rolls here. ... ... A dream. I am eating at a simple cafe-type restaurant. My check is for $5.49. When I go to pay up, the older stout woman in her uniform and apron charged me $8.49. I asked why am I being charged an extra three dollars. she says that I remained seated at the table too long. Annoyed, I just chuckled and said, "Okay, I just won't eat here again." ... ... Sammy is already starting to whine. I pet him and tell him that it's going to be a few days before he steps outside again, and that's if it doesn't rain anymore. I am braced to suffer a little feline hell. I keep hoping that, in their maturity, the cats will mellow out, but I don't think cats have that gear. I think squirrels are quieter. ... ... Time for my post-wank shower. It is also time for me to throw out my big, heavy red t-shirt, my last one I think. These were my favorite. Both of the underarms are all torn out. I could make a tank t-shirt out of it, the kind that Sugar apparently likes to wear, but, no, it is time to put a graceful close to another treasured era. ... ... Speaking of Dubya's debacle in Iraq, Trump, in 2006, said, "Bush will go down as the worst and by far the dumbest president in history." [Dowd, "Year of Voting Dangerously"] That elicited a chuckle, as it looks like Trump is going for the record and is off to a great beginning, making Dubya look like a veritable George Washington. ... ... Sammy is really playing the crybaby tonight. And I'm looking to go bed early, like right now. It's a little after eleven. I have to fight down the temptation to give him a swift kick, but it's not as though that impresses cats anyway. They just run off behind a couch and begin plotting revenge.