2am

Again. And 3, and 4. Like yesterday, the day before and so on. Another 12-hour work day, no lunch break, mad pressure & still can't fucking sleep. Can't think straight.
Could get something done. Like learn Russian or learn how to knit multicolor muffles or solve a Rubixcub with my butt cheeks. But nooooo... so much more fun to curse at Bob Rock on TV while he's turning Metallica into a joke. Tempted to go get myself a beer at the Deli. One of those obscure beers that taste awful but have a cool name. Wondering if I like this Lautréamont guy, after all. Thinking that I'm gonna have to spend a few days in Paris and being in Paris is the last thing I want. Thinking that I should try to find out if you can move a blog to another site that has no relation with the original site without having to spend 10 years in the operation nor leaving tracks. Almost got in a fight today, with some uptown guy I don't even know. Then it did not happen. What the fuck you gotta do to have somebody want to punch you in this city? Burn their SUVs? Rape their dog? Piss on their mother? Fucking cycos, they depress me.
Every other night in Brooklyn, smoking a cigarette in the street, there will be some guy asking me for something, wanting to shake hands like we've known each other since forever. You know the kind. They just won't shut up until you give them somethin. Tell him to beat it and the guy wants to talk about anger management. Tell the guy to fuck off & he wants to be your psychiatrist and talk about feelings. After a while they finally get it and wish you good night & God's blessing. Him and the uptown guy... I don't get it. Cycos...