Thur
Is that what it has gotten to? Meat loaf dreams? Meat loaf dreams that transition into Wolfenstein dreams? How dull have I become?

Wednes
Argued with the cat. Was disgusted by its attitude.

Tuesday
I spent some time in an abandoned garage. I found the darkness welcoming, as well as the absence of Gameshow Network/Stupid Model Show Channel voices murmuring incoherently from below. I would have stayed longer but I had neglected to bring an object to assist in disposing of my nasal fluid residue, and was not yet open to the idea of using my clothing for wetness absorption. That I would have to be coerced into minutes later.

I tried lying down in the grass. I had already slipped and fallen while trying to throw a brick at a vacant resident’s pretentious yard pine tree and decided I should at least take advantage of my new position. It was not good. The grass is sharp because people cut it all the time with [inexcusably loud] machines. They only stop and leave when the grass gives up and stops growing in late November. So demoralized is the grass that it does not regain the confidence to grow again until Spring, but by then property owners have returned to cut it some more. I don’t like dirt anyway. Still, the experience was bearable enough that it may be worth trying near a place more visible to non-“association” citizens. Most people will ignore or not even see a body, but eventually someone will investigate and discover it is not dead. I will be interested to see how somebody reacts to this sort of thing. I’m guessing it will be with disappointment, both at the lameness of the prank and the lack of revelation of hidden tv cameras. No no, I just did it because my life is otherwise meaningless, yet I remain too sensible to expose my immediate acquaintances to the repercussions of violent crimes. My fear will be the last thing to go. Try again next week.

Monday, the nine:
I was outside my home, in the rain, trying to burn off some of my shame. I must have been particularly invested in the idea because as I reached the end of the road (it is a long road) I had to stop and lean against a sign and wait for my respiratory guild to reach an interim agreement. Usually I can merely slow down or stop. Unfortunately, this was not a stop sign, so I looked out of place. A car which had recently passed me stopped in the near distance and eventually hooked around and came toward me again. The driver asked if I was all right. I responded that I was a bit depressed, but this was only audible as an indistinct mumbling. I don’t think I’ve been all right in my entire life. Has anyone? A better query would have been if I was right enough for the immediate situation and I was. The violent coughing up of phlegm is actually a standard part of this routine. The next question, “do you want me to call somebody?” I responded to more voluminously, saying not to do so. Was I sure? I was. If there was anyone nearby worth talking to I would have stayed inside and done that. We parted with “you look like you’re going to pass out” and “it would be for the best,” once again not terribly audibly. It was the closest I had come to having a conversation in days. I wish I was capable of doing something so hard that I lost consciousness. It’s much better for getting attention and closer to some sort of productivity than a grief nap. I would just lie down in the road but that would be dishonest, and uncomfortable, besides.
Still, all in all the experience was a magnificent improvement over the last time I travelled in day-light and was seen, when I spoke instead to a duo of police officers who had been called forth with reports of “someone walking around in a daze.” I was not aware prior to then that it was a crime to find the clouds and scraggly tree branches more interesting than asphalt. Ehhh, I can not fault the mystery coward(s) for not recognizing me; they only live here for four months of the year.

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Cliff edges continue to be sources of great danger.