It All Goes Down in Your Mind

There's something kind of great about being woken up from a deep sleep at around 2AM. Because at 2AM, you have many hours to go before waking. And there's nothing like waking up briefly to remind you how great it is that you get to sleep. Also, if I'm deeply asleep at 2AM, it means I went to bed at a decent hour. And these days I can't get enough of going to bed at a decent hour. Less fun is waking up at 2AM to the sound of bombs destroying your city, and then the disappointing realization that you're just like the rest of America: Scared shitless of terrorism. The sound I had heard was, of course, thunder. Loud and booming and unaccompanied by rain or lightning, it had me fully conviced we were, as they say, under attack. I felt like I was seeing everything, and feeling everything, through the lense of a handheld camera. Terror makes you dizzy. Outside, the boom had set off a host of car alarms, signaling meyhem. I shook Adam, because you don't want to do this kind of thing alone if you don't have to, but he never fully came to, slurring giggles of "Oh, its nothing!" I knew for sure he was wrong. I waited for the phone to ring, and wondered what the papers would say the next day. And then the lightning finally came. The rain sputtered, and then poured. It's the thunder, idiot. I felt brainwashed, and tired. I'm so sick of the news.

Blame it on Carn

Michael Caine had Rio, Milli Vanilli had the rain, and I have Carn. I don't like being the first person to jump in the pool. And I've never had a blogger friend before. That I know of. But then Carn went off and got himself into j-school, as they (not I) say, and started Carntown, giving me his tacit approval to go public. Carntown's got all kind of interesting posts about journalism and politics. He links to good articles. He thinks about his post, edits them probably. I may not do any of that stuff.