Mid-30's Guys!

Writing this one late today. It's nearly my bedtime. I'm tired from walking around cemeteries with T-Man. Asia is on her way here now from Poland. I'd like to meet her at the station where she's getting dropped off, to escort her home, but she won't be there until 23:00 and I'm already starting to fade. I do feel unusually fatigued from just a few hours of walking. Maybe it's this weird ear infection my body is fighting. That was a topic T and I discussed today, our failing bodies. For about the past year or so he's been experiencing weakness in his limbs that he can't explain. The German doctors haven't been of much use in determining the cause. I told him about my experience with frozen shoulder last year, and how I spent the better part of 7 months unable to lift my left arm. We could be a new dynamic duo, a crime-fighting superhero team: Mid-30's Guys! Our adventures could involve battling life's famous villains such as waking up with a headache that doesn't seem to go away, or mysterious back pain, spontaneous hemorrhoids, the sudden dizzy spells from getting up off the couch. Erectile dysfunction would of course be the eternal enemy, along with generalized existential dread and an unshakable sense of malaise. Have you noticed that I changed the settings on my computer to stop the British from colonizing my keyboard? It's so nice to not have it hijacked every sentence.

Back to the story of the day. 

There isn't much of a story, really. It was a pretty chill Sunday. I cleaned up my apartment some more, bathed my stinking mid-30's body, cooked, and went to meet T-Man. I'm finding it hard to focus my attention on writing tonight. Perhaps this is a lesson for me, to make sure I write early instead of late. You'd think that writing later in the day would free up the mind since it's sleepy and not too opinionated on sentence structure or form, but it doesn't seem to work this way. In the last sentence for example, I wrote since as sense. That should tell you where my mind is at. It's approaching dreamland, but without conferring any of the benefits to my stream of consciousness. No fluidity, no lovely poetic associations one might encounter while crossing the threshold into sleep. That brief window is called hypnogogia, by the way. Those brief, fleeting moments of weightlessness and easy mindedness you feel as you get whisked away to your nightly unconsciousness. It's a lovely place to float.