Now it’s after 11 p.m., and it seems like I’ve been sleeping all day. I remember writing those posts this morning. the knot has finally come out of my belly, turned out to be constipation and gas exacerbating frustration of sexual desire in a damaged groin and belly. The former I was able to address, but I still have a way to go and my belly is bloated from drinking so much water as I always do when I’m taking laxatives. Water, and cigarettes. Roll-your-own. One after another. the problem here is that my neighbors go to bed at about 11 p.m. (Note on this: they are sex maniacs and little love birds and it’s because they want their privacy that they keep me sleeping day and night and get so hostile toward me. My gastro situation doesn’t exactly foster their love life.) So I just heard a growl from downstairs when the coffee odor emanated from my apartment. Also, “Oh no” when they heard me in the bathroom because I have been known to flush about 100 times in the night when things get bad.
I have new remedies now that are gentler.
As I was laying down in bed at around 7 (I slept until about 10 p.m.) someone driving by yelled out “Home for the Mentally Ill!” as they passed my window.
dunno if the incident at the election polls is responsible or what, but then there was another explosion just a few minutes ago which brings me here: I felt something ominous, and then someone leaving the downstairs apartment yelled something, three words, I couldn’t discern them. Don’t know what it was about. So I’ve lit a candle. Another vigil.
No death. No talk of death now from God. This is huge and bigger than anything anybody can say to me.