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Baldy and Saddam

I didn't really black out the other day. My blacking out days are over. Rather, I fell asleep from exhaustion. Though I had had quite a bit to drink that night and felt quite bleh too the next morning, nausea was not a concern. Nausea is usually my personal defining characteristic of whether or not I might have been prone to blacking out.

I was just trying to keep myself warm.

There's too many dumb laws in the city, one of which is that people should not be heating their houses with firewood. But is that really a law? I think maybe chimney people put themselves at risk for an infraction at most. My heating unit hasn't been working for years. And though it's allocated in a strategic part of the house to get heat where it's needed, it doesn't crackle and pop the way natural firewood logs talk. I try to check the temperature forecast for lows and if I see that it reaches a point below 50°f, I feel justified to light a fire.

I'm sure if I had a roommate, that temperature might go up. Now that my doctor has me exercising daily, I don't feel the cold at 45° anymore. I brought in the important potted plants for the frost duration, but as it seems, I think the mysterious horsefly infestation of summer time has been solved.

Unfortunately, I think rats have found an entry way into the walls of my house. Because the landlord likes using poison to kill them, I believe the rats that are ready to die, burrow their way somewhere in a dark place in between the wall. It makes sense that flies would hatch from the maggots that probably result in the rat's rotting flesh. So, do I really need pitcher plants anymore to sustain a positive outlook on the way flicking flies dead saves me money from buying fly swatters?

I cannot bring myself to read the garbage I scanned into tmtwngm because I know I left the most important part out: the double murder. I dunno when I'll muster the confidence to return to it, but seeing that I'll be listening to my new 2-song playlist until I memorize each and every word to Catalyst, it can't be that long. The voice behind A little respect is just getting on my last nerve. I think it's the Cult's vocalist, or maybe even Howard Stern's pitch that embeds in my head the image of somebody pinching their nose while they speak. Like Lilly Tomlin's switchboard operator skit. But Lilly Tomlin didn't have that same pitch that annoys me so much.

I'm trying to think back of when I updated my blog with mention of how to find a book that is really going to pique your interest. I wanted to measure the time that has elapsed from then til now because I think I found a good one. It's called Black House by Stephen King & Peter Straub. How can anybody go wrong with Stephen King you say? Well, I only got halfway thru King's The Stand. There's only one copy of Black House in the library system where I work. It was published in 2001. I'm only a few pages into the book right now and it's hard to say whether the reason for there only being a single copy in circulation in all 70ish city libraries in L.A. is because it was not popular or it was so popular people began stealing it.

Black House was published in 2001. I'm fascinated how I might interpret King/Straub's plot into configuring my own double murder, but be assured there will be conspiracy oozing all over it as my #tmtwngm project shall contain the mechanism of wartime Central America, drugs (cocaine in particular), and the movie industry. Ha-ha, it should make for an hilarious adventure. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, do not fear sending contributions.  Somewhere in this blog you can find a mailing address for me and I can and will cash anything made payable to E. Aguirre, Jr. The "current location" link, somewhere in this entry, should suffice. Thanks in advance.

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