set 'em wild, set 'em wild, set them free-ee.

I feel like shit.
I cry out into the digital emptiness for assistance.
But there's still all this stuff to do.
And my throat is still so swollen I can't sing properly, and singing improperly makes it worse.
I want to finish my songs.
I don't want to get up at 6am for work every day for the next 3 1/2 months.
Not that it's difficult or anything.
I would just rather be exempt.

I got my jacket back today.
I left it in the bar in a safe place and it disappeared.
Things always disappear from safe places.
The A/C guy might have taken it, or someone might have stolen it, or it might still be here somewhere, he said.
It was on a hanger in the back, sunglasses in a different pocket than I left them in.
I'm sure someone was walking around in a parody of me.
How marvelous!

Saw another fisher.
Confidence is building, I guess.
Having discussions and then reading them in books.
Researching mundane things only to have others question me about them in unrelated ways without being aware of the aforementioned research.
I'm worried that his condition might be real, or that he might make it real by believing in it.
Where is the line?

I hope I will see you soon.