Tanked. Dealing with geek world first thing in the despicable a.m. exhausts me. Thought possibly I could use the evenings free to unleash my new standup material. Mental drain. Don't even want to deal with people after work.

Increasingly feeling like I'm becoming stupid. I can't read print. I mean, after working, eyes glued to this monitor, I am incapable of focusing enough to read anything. Barely can read this screen right now. Haven't read a book in months. Feel like an idiot fetus is growing in my skull. I want to read goddammit.

Shunning social activities. Constant underlying weariness. Sight hosed. So of course my televisual junky switch flips on. Prime time programming. Fuck me.

I suppose I should just terrorise pedestrians. Run amok on the streets. Kicking over garbage cans and newspaper vending machines. Breakdance on the hoods of taxi cabs. Rub my bare ass on the front windows of restaurants. Insult people coming out of trendy shops. Piss into the gutter.

Hopefully I will be hooked up with new cheap insurance covered spectacles. New lens script should help the orbs out. Might even be able to last through a whole magazine article. Or at least the back of a cereal box. Do have a fitting for the special contacts on Saturday. Suppose to shape my corneas back to some normality. Yummy joy.

As you might suspect I am completely unwilling to interact with my fellow ants. How the fuck are they alert enough to joke and cajole? I can barely sneer and roll my eyes at comments.

Well I am gonna go be grumpy. Later mutherfuckas.