This is great. In order to feel alright about "my place" in America, I'm comparing my situation to people who've lost limbs, or catch a dose of flesh eating bacteria. It's not so bad, then, eh? I've still got feet. Shit, I can walk to the grave. Rejiggering the American dream.
I don't dream any longer. Some of you may remember, I suffered horrific nightmares after the murders, but now, I sleep the sleep of the dead. Which I look forward to in a way I never did before. A blissful heroin-like rest, with nothing to bother me except waking. And that does bother me.
Fuck, I just noticed it's Saturday.
That sucks,...
