The sun came up today.

I didn't want it to because the depression hits like a hurricane:  Belladonna Blues.  But that's just me, and there are things that are much more important.

About 5:30 a.m. my mind drifted to the condition of this country.  So I wrote more, drooled a bit, then lost some more weight.  An Idol rerun ran, so the world must be on track.

I spent some time laughing at the motherfuckers who laugh at me.  Like any of us can coat ourselves in insulation - some kind of polymer that will keep the shit off of us.  Go ask Nicholas if any of us are protected.

The rabbits run from the fox running from the hound that runs from the fuck that kicks him - and the tsunami hits; or the earthquake, war, hurricane.  We think we're so fucking important.  Are we?  Yes, to the hand in trouble that we reach out to.

And the distractions just keep coming - babies devoured by cannibals, leftover lesbians gone straight, ringtailed lemurs rampage...

What the fuck!

I cooked something, but nothing tastes good.  So I took some more drugs, wondering how fucked up the DEA agents are at dawn.  Lincoln Park played on as the boat sank and somebody wrote a screenplay.

That's not very positive.

Fluffy puppies control Congress.  Featherbeds and frills in utopia.  So I stuggled to be rich, logged another forest to extinction and "stared into the vacuum of..."

We found his body in a field.  The rabbits ran over his corpse while the farmer's wife stewed a couple with dumplings, and time passed.

Fuck it