I think I’m cursed. Seriously, I think some Voodoo Priestess has put a hex on me. For what reason I cannot fathom. It’s 6:00am and I have been awake for the past two hours, lying in bed trying to will myself to sleep.

I awoke at 4am, my air conditioner moaning because it had iced over. That remedied, I flopped over and shut my eyes, welcoming a warm blanket of sleep when some ignorant ass birds started chirping away. How fucking inconsiderate is that? Any trick my mind could have played to tune them out would have been moot anyway, since the dawning sun was creeping across the horizon and into my bedroom. This is the last fucking time I rent an apartment with a bedroom that faces east. How wonderful it would be to live across the hall where the bedrooms are blissfully pitch black now.

So here I sit, unable to fall back to sleep, a long day ahead of me. I need to get a haircut. I need to buy a new mop bucket and a new trashcan for my kitchen. The old one is disgusting and way past the point of cleaning. It won’t make a difference. I’ll probably go for a run this morning. What the hell.

What I need is the Mindfold. “The what?” you ask. The Mindfold is one of those ridiculously expensive sleep masks that is probably sold in the Sharper Image catalog for the price of your first-born child. I first saw it used in that documentary that HBO featured called, “My Journeys with George,” filmed by a documentary filmmaker who followed Bush on the campaign trail. Her name escapes me at the moment, and I’m too sleep-deprived to search for it, but you will score major brownie points with me should you post her name in the guestbook.

Back to the Mindfold. So George Bush is being escorted through the press area on his airplane so he can go to sleep, and he’s wearing this Mindfold. Obviously, he can’t see; that’s why he’s being escorted. The filmmaker whose name escapes me due to extreme exhaustion asks GW a question and he replies, “Huh?”

She repeats her question and GW shakes his head. “I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you because I can’t see.” And the Nation collectively groaned, “This is the asshole we elected?” That’s what I need. A sleep mask that prevents my other senses from operating.

On another note, I can safely interject that I did not vote for Bush, nor will I vote for him in the next election. I don’t give a good goddamn what has happened abroad, there are major problems in this country that need to be addressed. Namely, find my ass a job. Seriously, unemployment is up to what, 6.3 percent? That’s absolutely absurd. Bring back the New Deal. Create a new Tennessee Valley Authority. Build power plants in California, Lord knows they need it. Do something!

Plus, in support of the whole “cursed” theory, I found one of my favorite CDs broken in half in my car yesterday. I would buy it again but it’s part of a double disc set, and well, perhaps I’ll download it or something.

Oh yeah, and the elevator in my apartment is giving off this whole B-horror flick vibe, with most of the lights dead, and the remaining lights dimmed and flickering. It’s been going on for the last two days. It’s fucking creepy, already.

Days out of work: 14

Happy unemployment anniversary to me! Two whole weeks!

READ THESE JOURNALS Uncle Bob SaraH

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