Other People's Troubles Are So Funny

NyQuil doesn't seem to work two days in a row. I slept fitfully last night waking to wild dreams I did now want. I've asked for an angel and this is what I've gotten. And if one is honest, perhaps he must assume that this is what he deserves. At least that is how it went last night. Guilty! I should never have done the things I did. Most of them, anyway. You'll see. I'll get back to the narrative one day. I'm at the point where I'm still perfect once removed, but this is a song of experience, and you know where that leads.

I lay on the couch and listened to music all day yesterday. When Dylan's version of "House of the Rising Sun" came on, I got a cold chill through me. Maybe I should have been using Robitussin instead. Sometimes, though, it seems the only happy people I know are those who kept their hair cut and their eyes on the money. Traditional families with stay at home mothers, new cars, and memberships to the Y. They smile a lot and have nice dinners, boats and other toys, and always seem to be busy. I knew them for a while. You'll see.

They don't drive 1985 Volvo 240s. The garage called. They have to keep the car until Monday. Had to order parts. $500 repair of things they've fixed before. I am homebound. The sky is clear and blue. I sneeze and blow my nose and have the beginnings of a cough. I hear that the evenings in parts of the northeast are cooler now. There are places where the leaves begin to change.