Flotsam

Sunday ended up being horrible. Although nothing happened. Because nothing happened? Suddenly this vague haze of general unpleasantness descended and that was that. I went to sleep knowing that all I had to do was somehow plow through into unconsciousness and have a brand new perspective delivered to my bed come morning. Instead, I got mired in various would- and neverhavebeens, reliving stuff best left decomposed. Finally, in order to clear my mind a bit, I started examining the best and easiest ways of ending one's tenure on this mortal coil (I know that might sound kind of creepy and disturbing, but it's an old, tested, and purely intellectual exercise). However, even that backfired - I started out with a relatively zen sneaking-out-into-a-blizzard scenario, which fit in nicely with trying to get some goddamned sleep, but as I started drifting off and thus lost my focus, my mind took it into hardcore frostbite, getting rescued, having my limbs amputated, and looking for a way to lunge myself jugular-first towards something sharp.

Yeah.

And so, here I am, reading the Internet at 4am. Apparently, all is well with the world.