opium den, minus the opium.

some days are better than others. 

I awoke at 5am today because the cat defecates loudly around this time every 24hrs. every single day I'm awakened around 5am by the sound of my cat shitting! so I blearily change the litter, toss the old stuff in the dumpster outside (sometimes people are already/still walking around glassily, or early commuters are driving by; this morning was dark and still. not even the birds are awake yet.), and then stay wide awake for an hour or two. 

every fucking day. 

so I've gotten even better at the NYT Sunday crosswords. i do them on my phone when I can't sleep. I average 2 a day. going backwards through their online archives, I'll soon be on the year 2010. thanks for indirectly expanding my brainpower whilst simultaneously destroying it with chronic insomnia, shit-cat! I'll just go fill my OLLA with the contents of the OAST and admire yoko ONO now, or something. 

also, insomnia gives me all sorts of uninterrupted time to relive every horrible thing I've said and done, ever. I get to replay the previous day in my head and amplify my copious fuck-ups. the middle of the night is never a time of blissful reflection and quiet appreciation. it is full-throttle anxiety and loneliness and negativity, watching the leaves cast shadows through the streetlight in a dark quiet room. 

Although, truthfully: I can trace my current "angst", if you will, to only a couple of major, recurring themes. everything else is actually pretty fantastic. 

good morning!

*

Pine Street. 

on the construction wall where Bauhaus used to be. 

plaintive practice with the color-block filter. 

this is on a locomotive. 

dracenas! 

bendy straw, ikea glass, chemical droplets. it must be my Klassy Kitchen. 

15th & John. 

I've had Bowie's "the man who sold the world" in my head for roughly 48 hours now. so apparently my brain knows how to do something right.