social death

So I've been having all these bizarre dreams as a product of sleeping at opposite ends of the bed, isolation and not having touched another person in months nor having created anything at all. This place is a psychic desert and my dreams are deciphering some kind of message from beyond the boredom, interpreting movie memories as reality not having much else to work with. Last night I had to put a stop to it as it is getting out of control. I dreamt that I got angry with my Mother and stepped on her foot, breaking a bone. Earlier in the dream I was making out with an ex-con friend of mine who lives here in Athens. This is getting unfair.

Everyday I wake up, take a shower and make coffee. I then check myspace about fifty times while alternately reading the news and checking my gmail account. I then ride my bicycle uptown and sit at a coffeeshop reading a book, previously Steinbecks "The Wayward Bus" and lately "The Botany of Desire", although it's a little rough going with all the Johnny Appleseed blither. I usually then figure out some reason to go to the grocery store where I wander around the aisles in search of something new to try, eventually going home. Since it's been raining a lot the pool is out of the question as is Strouds Run.

Oh, I've started eating meat again out of a desire for variety.

There has to be some kind of lesson being learned here.

ugh more homesick than ever.