Sunday, September 10, 2006

He hears the sounds of fucking through the walls.

The lid was off the jar.

His lip bled into his cupped hand.


God I was tired yesterday and I'm tired again today. I briefly lost consciousness on the couch while watching college football - Syracuse and Iowa - and reading some article about Dick Cheney. It became increasingly difficult to focus on either the article or the game and then my mind became aswim in a menacing froth of whistles, huddles, arms negotiations and Condoleeza Rice.

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