Richard Brook

I haven't slept in my own bed in about a fortnight. At least. This is because, for one reason or another, I can't.

I've no idea what it is. I go back there to have a lie down, and I just can't fall asleep. And then my hip hurts and then I get really itchy, and it's an hour and a half later and all I've accomplished is a bit of whimpering, a lot of tossing and turning, and scratching my arms raw.

And then I come out to the sofa and I'm out within minutes.


Either I'm losing a very specific part of my mind, or it's time to get a new bed.

I have a tired. I'm very headache.

Went to bed about three hours ago, after mucking about with a bunch of people in IRC. In that three hours I was in bed, I think I slept for about a half hour. And then I gave up. So I'm awake again.

I'll just work on my ridiculous Sherlock dressed as the Doctor drawing.

Tired. Can't sleep when I go to bed, because I hurt too much. Get quite comfortable on the sofa, but can't sleep because Ryan is home. I'm not feeling well, I have a headache from all stop it, and I'm starting to get bored.

Considering downloading Gimp onto my laptop and using it to make icons or something.

Yes, it is cold here, in Portland. Do you know how I know that it's cold? In Portland?

Because, believe it or not, this is a rather subjective matter. So, while 56° with 90% is warm for you, dear mother, please bear in mind that since 2006, I have been living in the middle of the damn Mojave desert, where there is never that much humidity EVER, which does not leave so much damn cold, moist air hanging about to just bore into my poor, arthritic bones.

So, yes. While the raw data on the internet has been saying that lately, Vegas has been consistently about 20° colder, it's also had no more than 30% humidity. Believe it or not, this makes the air seem warmer than what you have here in this god forsaken rain forest. I am not used to this much humidity, and I do not like it.

So, no. I will not be going outside to have a bonfire, in the dark, with wet all over everything. I will be staying indoors, next to the heater, and watching Sherlock on your massively huge hi-def television set.

Not only did I sleep for maybe an hour last night, but in the process of not sleeping, I pulled my neck quite badly.

Jesus Christ, the day's barely started, and it already sucks.

So, when I said that nothing was going on today?

Totally and utterly lied.


I've been doing laundry since about 9am. I didn't realise how much stuff we had in bags. D: I'm nearly done, though. I may even have a few quarters left over when I'm done.

Doing laundry means going outside. This means running into my neighbours. Most of them are kinda creepy, but the guy on the other side of the building, whom I have to pass to get to the laundry room, is pretty cool. He's about mid-40s or so and lives in one of these tiny-ass little apartments with his lady, who apparently left him last night (or at least, made it very clear that she's planning on doing it soon). So, he's home today and totally losing his mind. Last week (I think. It may have been the week previous) I lent him a book, and he's been going nuts over it. Apparently he really likes theoretical physics, and didn't even know it. Talking to him today, I learned that we're allowed to paint our apartments. I've never been in his before today, but he's done his kitchen up with racing stripes and motorcycles. It looks really slick.

So, I'm in the process of getting the apartment cleaned up, because I am TOTALLY doing this place up. I'm so sick of the yellow walls and disgusting wood patterns in the kitchen. I really like this place, and it's affordable, and since moving doesn't seem like it's going to be happening, I'm going to make this place look like something I can live with for a while.


While I was talking with Rich, my mum sent me a text message about how she's grateful for everyone in her life. She'll do this sort of thing every now and again, and it usually means that she's found god again, as she's wont to do every few years. Turns out, I was sort of half right. Apparently my step-brother, Leo, rolled his car last night. Ten times. And walked away.

This is the second time something like this has happened. The first time, it was my cousin, Zach. He did pretty much the same thing. Rolled his car, took out a road sign, and hit a tree. And then got up and phoned for a tow-truck. WTF?


I also finally mailed that package. Now I don't have to look at it any more.


So, there we go. It's not even midday, and aside from the laundry, the entire day has changed completely from what I'd expected.

Okay, so my tags aren't completely accurate. I'm actually wide awake right now, but that's the problem. You see, on Monday, I plan on going down to CSN to do some testing before signing up for classes. The last time I did this, I was high as a kite on prescription meds for... something. I can't remember what it was, just that I probably should have gone in on a different day.

Now, it's 4:30 on Sunday morning. I should be in bed right now. But I'm not. Why? Why? Because it's 94° out right now. In an apartment this small, with limited ventilation and a really lame AC unit, it's about 94° inside as well. If I go back to the bedroom, it's even worse. If I go to bed now and crash out on the sofa (like I did this after noon), the husband will just wake me up in two and a half hours anyway.

It is easier to sleep out here, though. For one, it's slightly closer to the lame AC unit, and there's a fan out here (for those of you who have just joined us, no. I cannot put the fan in the bedroom, because there are no outlets in the bedroom. This is because it's not a bedroom at all, actually, but rather a closet that happens to be large enough to hold a bed).

So, whatever. I can either grin and bear it all day tomorrow (ha!) or do my tests totally knackered on Monday. Fuck.


In other news, I got Beautiful Eyes today. It's a compilation album, but I'm really liking it. There are some new versions of previously released songs. I think they're all like that, but I don't have all of the Residents' albums (because there are about a million of them), so I can only vouch for about the 1/3 that I do know. And I really like the recut of My Brother Paul. That was easily one of my favourite tracks from DDA.


I'm rambling. But it's my journal, so I'm allowed to do that. Anyway, I'm going to go finish my supper and find something to do.