This is how I look like sick. Ive been sick all day. Ive had a serious case of insomnia recently. I would say that in the past 48 hours Ive gotten about five hours of sleep. Its been horrible. And to make matters worse I though it would be a good idea to eat an ultimate sirloin cheeseburger from Jack in the Box at 4am this morning. By 9am I was at work doubled over in pain. I vomited in the bathroom and decided it was best if I went home. Ive been slipping in and out of consciousness all day, punctuated by long stretches of the deepest pain.
And watching Spongebob with Bela.
Ive been spending the past few hours looking back at 2007. Thats easy for me seeing that I have been keeping track of my life since 2002 ...
These are my books. I'm not supposed to call them diaries because I have a penis, but they're diaries. Who am I kidding, right? Ive been writing in them since February 2002 when I first moved to Sacramento. Ive successfully completed six full length titles in almost six years. I actually have enough stuff in my books to write a full length novel about myself, albeit a depressed and perverted one. I don't have a lot of friends and spend a lot of time, probably too much time, writing in one of my books all by myself. I always have one with me and I can think of two people in the whole world who have read it, one of those people being my wife.
Here is a picture of book six, the one I just completed. The cover is a collage of the evil and sinister Dr. Borderz ...
2002 used to be the hardest book, what with the move and the breakup and the married woman and the dirtbar and the violence and the drinking and partying and all the trouble with the law. Then meeting and falling incredibly quickly in love with a young woman with a one year old named Emerald. That book ended in 2004 wit some deeply personal drama that I now personally call The Drama on the Fourth of July. I wasn't sure what was going on and what was going to happen to me.
Well, theres a new winner in the world of difficult books to write and thats 2007, the book I finished a few days ago. Ive been rereading book six today. A lot of it is simple bitching about work and covering breaks and being overworked and getting no credit. Then theres all the doubt and the fear. It starts up small, a little something here and a little something there. And then in November it exploded.
Now Im all set to start writing book seven ...
... and Im frightened to.
My wife as been asleep since 8:30pm. My stomach hurts so bad
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