Ain't a pity. Ain't it a cryin' shame.

  I really need to quit sleeping as much as I do. Wake up, eat something, read a little bit, walk around outside for a bit, go back to sleep. Rinse and repeat, maybe throw some video game time or harmonica time or, occasionally, movie time, but otherwise, rinse and repeat. It's not healthy, especially at my age, neither mentally nor physically.

 But honestly, it's all I want to do. Again I'm going to punt the Hohner harmonica run down, but you get what you pay for. I've been getting into the Divinity: Original Sin games and I've made some headway into both, but I don't feel like writing about either. They're good, you know this. I've been re-reading a lot of Hunter Thompson instead of anything else because he's fun to read.

 I don't know why this is, but it is. I'm not in a great mood but what the hell, you know? I'm always, even at my best, slightly irritated about something, whether personal or beyond my grasp. I've learned to live with it. People are giving this more attention, but I still don't understand why people's hairs aren't on fire. The state of Florida is actively threatening teachers and students if they don't show proper ideology.

 But no, it's just that wacky Ron DeSantis and his kooky right-wing buddies doing their thing. You almost have to expect it, I'm told. Just because the grubby little punk doesn't pretend to be anything but a cut-rate fascist bully boy because that's what the barking dingbats want. Have you seen the video of "concerned parents" losing their minds at school board meetings over what they think Critical Race Theory is? These are the same people who wouldn't go to a meeting to discuss funding for after-school activities or anti-bullying measures if you held them at gunpoint.

 Kids are great but the parents are invariably assholes.

 Well, enough of that. The midnight hour is sneaking up on me and, frankly, I'm most inclined to just go back to bed. Read a little bit, listen to some good music, and let it ride. I'm obsessed with harmonica music these days. I bet you've I've listened to the same Big Walter Horton collection a dozen times over in the past week. The man had a tone big as all outdoors.

 Fifteen minutes, a little over 115 words. Think, think, think, but the words don't come. When I have something to write about, it's no problem. There's no end to stomach-churning horseshit going on that fits "the News," like that collapsing apartment building in Miami. Goddamn Tucker Carlson asked if it was "intentional" because collapsing apartment buildings are something that happens in "third-world nations." Between this and the "anti-white mania," that people still pay attention to this evil little twit after he got his shit pushed in by friggin' Jon Stewart twenty years ago makes me despair for the republic.

 It's too hot and too humid. I hate Summer in the South. It's miserable here as it was miserable in New Orleans, North Georgia, and Central Florida. I need to figure out a way to spend June through September in Vermont or someplace like that. Stay in the South for the Spring and Fall and head out to the desert for Winter. I'm assuming it's nice in the desert during the Winter. I'm sure it's dryer, anyway.

 I ought to look into that.