January 12th, 2004



Felt like a zombie today. Just waiting for the urge to eat brain to kick in. On the plus side, a brain-only diet is Atkins-approved, which is why there are no fat zombies.

There are two reasons why I became the walking dead:

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten up before 9 AM. Hell it’s been a while since I’ve gotten up before lunch. I’d been on vacation for almost three weeks, you see, during which I gorged on a lot of things, including sleep. Strangely enough, after two weeks I started feeling restless and actually looked forward to getting back to the office. Now how twisted is that?

... yes, about that twisted. God bless female contortionists.

I was woken up at 5 AM by my neighbor’s alarm. I could’ve slept right through it: in college I’d learned to achieve REM in a brightly lit dorm room packed with loud music and louder freshmen. But what happened was the neighbor’s alarm woke up my girlfriend, who then pounded on the wall with her fist, which then woke me up.

The alarm kept shrieking for five minutes. After ten minutes I realized that my neighbors weren’t even home and had forgotten to turn off their alarm clock. So I groggily threw on a jacket, walked outside to the fuse box, and shut their power off. This felt strangely illegal, like I was supposed to then cut their phone line and hide in the basement with a chainsaw.


When I returned to bed, I couldn’t fall back asleep. I thought about the last time I used to wake up this early, when I was a snotty five-year-old. My sister and I’d get up before the ass crack of dawn, along with our dad. He’d make us breakfast and then head off to work. For an hour, my sister and I would chill on the couch, watching Bugs Bunny cartoons as the sun slowly crawled over the distant hills.

I used to tell her that there was a giant cannon on the other side that fired the sun into the sky every morning. The sun would slowly sail over LA before plunging into the ocean, where it’d disintegrate into beach sand. I’m pretty sure she thought I was full of shit, but credit goes to my sister for not informing me of this.

And I haven’t been a morning person since. Go figure. I blame it on sex, vodka, 24-hour restaurants, singing along to "Bizarre Love Triangle" like an idiot, chemistry finals, Vegas runs, midnight screenings, Dr. Pepper, term papers, women in knee-high boots dancing on speakers, the Internet, the ozone layer, the girl who won’t hang up, the book you can’t put down, and the irrefutable fact that staying up is always more fun than waking up.

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