He packed no star as he wandered far, where the only law was a hook and a draw.

  I'm really not in the mood for all this. I don't have anything interesting to say nor have I done anything noteworthy the last couple of days but sleep late some more. But, needs must, so let's squeeze something out and get on with our evening.

 I did have a rather vivid, narrative dream. Essentially, it was set in a future dystopian utopia-type of deal. Everything appears great, no one's hungry or poor, but... that sort of thing. There was a powerful central government and everyone was tagged. However, being tagged wasn't necessary for different reasons. That being said, some sort of technology was necessary to do about anything, so essentially everyone had cell phones that were used to do everything from opening the bathroom door to buying a hamburger at a concert. No money, that sort of thing.

 It started with a rebellion being crushed, and our Protagonist survived the last crush by hiding sort of like in Ravenous. Somewhere along the line, - five years sticks in my head - he steals one of the government's soldiers' ID box and claims his chip was burnt out due to an EMP. That sort of thing happens all the time. Riding on a train taking young soldiers back home to visit, he masquerades as a veteran and picks a stop way off in the boonies. Seems like it was in the Pacific Northwest.

 So, he starts walking in search of a fabled technology-free community, basically, so he isn't executed by the government for being a rebel. For the most part, though, no one cares about the war. During his travels, he sees how the Great Society fails like the rebels thought it would but he also sees how it succeeds in ways they never expected. At one point, he comes across a concert and people having a good time, which doesn't mean anything in particular except he has to radically alter his course because he can't actually buy anything.

 Anyhow, as he got close to the mythical Luddite colony increasingly conflicted about everything I woke up. I don't know where it goes from there nor do I know if there's anything in there worth expanding. I do think it says something about my own internal conflict with the good and evils of American society. The richest, most technologically advanced country on the planet that's being ravaged by poverty and an easily avoidable pandemic out of human arrogance and selfishness, that sort of thing.

 Probably related to stories I've read about former Confederate soldiers in a post-Civil War America, a la Johnny Yuma. I've mentioned before how much I dislike my dreams. I like the narrative ones and just wish I could do something creative with them. I guess if I could, I wouldn't be doing this or the News. It's probably for the best, though, as everything I've read lately says making any sort of living as a writer is a rube's game.

 And that's about that. I don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of the evening. I may just go back to sleep or I may play some more Pillars of Eternity II.

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.

Sunday, February 9, 2020

 I ain't going to lie, beloved, but I woke up in a foul mood. Whatever cheap funk that's been hanging around since the first of the year kicked me in the teeth this morning. There was all expectations of this being one of those dark, tedious dirges I've been singing lately because I'm not interested in today's news, so far. But, I got wired & inspired, and took a nice constitutional with Otis. It improved my mood greatly.

Saturday, February 1, 2020

 Sometimes I think part of my sleeping problems, or the current iteration thereof, is that one of the reasons I rarely get more than two or three hours a time, is I'm remembering my dreams again. Read somewhere that heavy marijuana use is inability to remember dreams. I am here to report that, yes, all that fits in.