IT IS past twelve and i find myself staring at the screen. i really ought to go to bed, and yet i find myself unable to. it's not because i'm nervous for tomorrow i am off to atlantic city; far from it. i feel not excitement nor trepidation for this said event. it is doubtful that my waking state has anything to do with my clogged condition either; that has dissipated -- from loss of vocal capacity to its recovery, from lack of the ability to use my nasal passages to its current overflowed state, it has never been suspect of any crimes pertaining to my semi-insomniac activities.

i'm into tomorrow. brain's close to shutting down, and yet body's still raring to go. maybe a dose of some form of exercise will do it some good. if all else fails, i can always just hit myself on the head with that dumbbell accumulating dust at the corner of my room....