it looks like a 4am night but of course tonight hardly counts since we are springing foward. i hate springing forward. springing forward puts me off kilter for days and i resent like hell the lost hour of sleep although come fall i relish getting it back. the thing is though i absorb that extra hour in the fall very quickly but the loss of it in the spring lingers on and on.
somehow i suspect one could make psychoanalytic hay from this observation. something about grief and its converse voraciousness.
i don't know what that would have to do with anything though although i wonder if it has to have anything to do with anything or if ideas spinning off by themselves are worth the time taken to think them.
ideas don't spin off by themselves of course they only seem to and i wonder if it is my job to pick up the threads in between and follow them around.