-To be this tired, I'd have to be blitzed-

Been sleeping on the floor two nights running, and only for 2-3 hours each time. And for what? A paper with which I'm not entirely displeased; a bundle of nerves, shot, the lot of them; and a fresh poker face to fool every sensitive librarian in the space. This is a fairly good day.

Still, I'm examining the words I say after I say them, because at least twice I've caught the nonsensical and caged it with a quick retraction after it fled my mouth. Since my vaunted editing skills have been more or less depleted, we estimate that one in five is treated to utter drivel.

Writing in this place is something of a crapshoot, then. After all, will one of every five statements here jangle out of tune? Perhaps it could be edited later, but I'd rather let it stand as object lesson for preserving my health.

At the same time, I am forbidden from discussing some of the more extravagant events around town, of which there have no doubt been so many since last weekend. Follow the news - which you know - or my encounters with city denizens, which you know even better.

Needless to say, I know my audience. You want me to talk about the blood that pooled at the front of the bus a few days ago? I won't. I don't pander to your violent tendencies, except to say that it's one of the few times passengers efficiently loaded via the back door.

Also, the blood kept us all behind the white line.