Last night, I dreamt that an old, now distant friend had died. The funeral was Roman, triumphal. Afterward, Pillow and I swam with leopards. They bit us a little, but it didn't hurt. I woke. I watched several episodes of One Tree Hill and The Sopranos. I wrote for a while.Try as I might, I just can't be happy on Sunday. School dread, the notion that any pleasure is finite (wholly unlike Saturday or Tuesday). And try as might, I just can't shake how good I am at being blue. I give into it completely. I mix a bloody and listen to this, over and over and over. I think of no one in particular, but myself and warm weather and other clothes and calendars and cars.
