FEAR, LOATHING, AND A HUNGER.

The news this morning is depressingly uninspired. We're supposed to be living through the most exciting time ever, and there's nothing on my feed that holds my interest. No rioting redneck mobs burning down Atlanta, no Magites laying siege to voting centers, no anti-vaxxers outside clinics chaining themselves to mob-control barriers.

Dammit, you red state hickabillies, do something!

I blame their lack of lite beer for this.

They're obviously too sober.


As soon as my apartment mate goes to work today, I'm opening the windows, shutting her door, and settling down with a cup of coffee to watch cooking videos in foreign languages while smoking a pipe. That should wake me better up I think.

Red ribbon, dark brown, and Italian florets.

I'll drop by the clinic later to schedule invasive procedures and sample collection. If all goes well I'll be stumbling out of the house at the crack of dawn tomorrow for blood tests, no food or coffee in the system yet, but they didn't say anything about nicotine. Then blearily heading to a place with dim sum, to contemplate man's inhumanity to man, my navel, and wether chilipaste goes well on hargau and siumai, which I'm failry sure it does, but few yumcha places cater to men with Dutch Indonesian food preferences in this city.
Hunter S. Thompson would change that.

If he were still among us.



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