Still hanging around, for at least maybe for a little while longer. That whole straddle thing didn't come off. Suicide is a leap of faith(?) of sorts and can quite hard to actually pulloff. We may be working ourself into a bit of sleep-deprived frenzy to finally get it over with. The last two nights have been mostly without sleep, driving around in the car, managing just a few odd fitful half hours of napping in the car, trying not to freeze in the 9 degree F temps. Should be a little warmer tonight, our third in a row in the car. Just don't have anyplace to crash now. Tried our sister's motel last night but she wasn't around all night. Turns out she was there but wouldn't answer the door. Turn about is fair play. I've been a jerk to her more than once. That will be the last contact with sister though. Have a nice life and see you on the other side of eternity! No sleep, not stretching out--boy does it get to you. Fatigue-induced trance. Maybe that will do the trick. Remember that Edward Norton character in the movie(from the novel) "Fight Club". Insomnia would be the worst. We have always been lucky in not having insomnia. Now, though, it's a self-inflicted variety. Can't spend the last 45 bucks on a room. There's gas to buy and another cheap 1.75 of cheap Kentucky vodka. So maybe we can park for a few hours and get a little more sleep than the past two nights. Another night of fitful sleep and the stage is set. Lunch date tomorrow with a contractor I had dealings with. Maybe some help. What would "help" do given our terminal lethargy and inertia? Working for a living is but a distant memory. Ending it all would be so much cleaner in a way. Almost romantic. We are so emotional. We are a little proud of ourselves for not eating food left behind by people. Though we did rescue a half-full bucket of popcorn this afternoon and dumped a bunch of jalepeno(sp?) peppers in there. We still have work to do. The line between food and garbage can seem so blurred. The f*cking old house is a real bad mess. Water flooded and froze. When will the Sheriff finally get out there and take possesion. Should have kept the utilities current and stayed there. Nah, we were sick of that house. Sick of everything in it. Sick of life. When life is the disease what is the cure? Good luck to one and all trying to collect the myriad debts we owe. Again, a clean, romantic solution. Let someone else clean out this bloody car. Note on Wed night: Temps warmed up a bit and we got three or four hours of sleep in the car. Parked on a side street without incident. Now it's Thurs morning. Do we follow through with lunch with the contractor friend? There's no help for us. Park the car on the front lawn of the house we were staying at and fade to black. Give that small suburban P.D. something interesting to take care of. Probable self-inflicted fatality. Tom also knows a bit about our life so he would be a resource for the P.D. And, we don't want, really, to crash that car. Clean up the mess and return it to the owner. Get out of life with minimal complications, at least relatively speaking. There are always complications from this sort of thing.
Ah, here's another moving picture image. "Touch of Evil". Orson Welles playing border cop Hank Quinlan. A bit of mess at the end of that flick. Marlene Dietrich says simply, "He was some kind of man. What more can you say about someone?"
We just lived some sort of life, that's all. "Bad Lieutenant". Bad Buyer. Let it ride. Gotta work up a frenzy to get this thing done. Maybe a few hours more. We are curious about how Iowa will turn out.
They Shoot Horses, Don't They?
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