I can't think of anything.

  I just woke up from a dream where I was writing. My set-up was truly something and the initial paragraph was actually pretty good. It's a shame reality pales in comparison in so many ways. I read somewhere that copious marijuana use retarded dreaming or, at least, remembering dreams. That sort of tracks, as I really didn't remember the dreams I'd had when I was smoking more weed than Willie Nelson.

 That may be what I miss most about not being able to get (or stay, let's be honest) stoned. I remember my dreams these days and it's always disappointing. It's either a work dream and everyone hates me because I suck or it's got something to do with school where I'm late for a class I can't find and everyone hates me. Lots of dreams where everyone hates me, and I'm sure that says something but I don't care to know what. I have no illusions about my self-esteem. so all I'm getting from that is I really loathe myself more than I will admit. That's unsettling.

 The dumbest one I've had lately is I dreamt I was late for work at Whole Foods because I'd gone to a mall across town for a McDonald's hamburger. Or maybe it was a sausage-and-biscuit for breakfast. In any event, it was someplace I wouldn't go for something I don't like making me stress out over a job I hated. Imagine trying to be in a good mood after that.

 There are also the... I wouldn't call them "sex dreams" because there's no actual sex. They're definitely fantasy because they involve a woman I'm incredibly attracted to who desperately wants to be with me. To my shame, I've never had a heavy lust for any woman who was actively interested in having sex with me. Granted, the sexiest thing a woman can do is be physically interested in me so I've usually managed to get over that. It does generally come out in the end, though.

 That's a lie. Twice have I lusted after women who wanted in my pants, but neither woman wanted to stay around after the loving was through. I'm not sure I should count them, but again, that's all pretty telling, I think. Anyhow, the not-sex dreams are probably the most disheartening. Again, I don't mind that living my life as I wish has led me to become single in my mid-40s but it's still no fun when my subconscious rubs it in my face.

 Anyhow. So much for all of that. I'm depressed and miserable and probably desperately lonely and undoubtedly in denial about how deep all that is, but it's neither interesting nor all that revealing. This is the sixth day in a row that I've gone to sleep just before the sun came up and slept well into noon. I've decided to give into it for as long as it lasts. Might as well, it's been as hot as a bastard while the sun was up.

 It's been ridiculously hot here at Enon Holler World Headquarters. We've had heat indexes in the 110s all week, and we're not supposed to get relief any time soon. Apparently, the country's under a "heat dome," which is when the atmosphere holds heat in from hot ocean air. It's linked to climate change, so there you go. Between that and the spike in Delta cases - and particularly the conservative zealotry against vaccinations and the ilk - humanity is not looking good.

 I watched a YouTube video the other day saying how one would probably survive a Romero-style zombie outbreak. I used to think so myself, if for no other reason that eventually dead bodies break down. It takes a year or so for a human body to completely melt away, but give it a couple of days and your tendons would be so dry they'd snap, no worries.

 I'm not as certain now. Night after night of Tucker Carlson claiming zombie bites caused death and resurrection into a flesh-eating monster was merely a Democrat hoax to make Trump look bad would have a deleterious effect. Multiple Facebook groups where ding-dongs convince each other that there are no actual zombies and only people who live in fear would mind being bitten would have a deleterious effect.

 We would be at Day of the Dead within six weeks, man.