The GMO Sherb is showing out well. This might have been my last joint of it. I can't recall whether I have previously written much about it/on it. I am awake here late at night, or very early in the morning, and I'm feeling very introspective. It's hard to believe I was at Farm yesterday, I left before six in the morning. It's all a blur. I thought I beat the rain but there is no beating the rain. It's like my dad said a couple weeks ago when one of the OG CNAs was trying to get a rise out of him, making faces at him. When she walked away he said, "She fooled me, I fooled her!" That's the last lucid thing I've heard him say. She fooled me, I fooled her. He smiled and he had a glint in his eye.

Damn. This is the Sherb bite for sure. It's like a wild, wary, unpredictable animal. If you can work with it, get it to cooperate, if you can learn how to ride it, it can be a workhorse, a real mule, a carrying agent, a vector, a viaduct, a way. Let's get back to that water in the duct. 12:05, 5.19.26.

I'm still awake, back awake, awake again, re-awakened. This is how I wake and bake. Now also under the influence of alcohol aka vodka. It's been one of those nights. One of those crazy, crazy nights. Somehow

My mind wanders, my eyes sting, this box fan drying them out, allergies, May, fighting off any more sleep. I will crash when I crash. I'm on the fourth bucket. These are my best hours. Unbeset, undeterred, undertaker spread the word. I emailed that guy, that writer Connor Greer, but he never emailed me back. I made a big mistake and lost all my friends. Three Mile Island is back in production. If only we'd gone to the river together, made the sharing glass. Instead I got drunk, lost all my friends again. If only they were peonies. They were monarchs. But I wanted them to stay. They were recluse, they were widows, they were a previously unrecognized kind of salamander, peanut shells, ticks in the high grass.

Did you hear that? The weight of a falling branch. Leaves are so the whole tree doesn't have to fall. My dad on the phone, my mom on the phone. A TWA flight to nowhere delayed forever. One blanket two, Sir Crocs a Lot, that little room he carried around with him. Basement, devil, door...

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