mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

You know you know you know

I sometimes hear them, you know. Not voices, not words, but thoughts or more really, the gist of a conversation. And people look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them, but I’m not. It’s science. It’s electromagnetism, bits of information whizzing around through the air. They pass through my head and then leave again, but they leave something behind. You couldn’t expect it not to have an effect. Most people don’t know I can hear their conversations, so they talk more freely than they would to my face, and they say nasty, mean-spirited things. Then talk to me later like I’m their favorite person in the world. Well fuck them. I can smile right back, but I’m smiling because I know, and I know they don’t know I hear them. One day when the Son of Man returns, all will be set right. I don’t care, really I don’t, but I wish they’d stop saying such mean things. I just want to be liked. Why won’t anyone love me? Kill me, fuck me, I wish everyone else was dead.

It’s so hot

It was more than 100 degrees today. I enjoyed it.

I like hot weather (“Really?” I do.) It doesn’t bother me the same way cold weather does. Two degrees on the wrong side of 70, and I need a jacket. Thirty degrees on the right side 70, and I’m still fine. Probably not too healthy, especially without a lot of water, but I like it.

It the nights, though, mainly. No more heat coming in, and a nice breeze blowing through. Not even a cool breeze, the wind itself is warm, like a blanket, you know. It’s wonderful. There is no better weather than a hot summer night.

But then again, it is a dry heat.