Woke up at 7 AM on the couch. I don’t remember going to sleep. The computer is still on - I was watching something. Star Wars was on. I remember starting it; I don’t remember watching any of it. The freight train of the night before is running though me; I think I’m still drunk at this point. My vision is blurry and my kidneys hurt. I crawl into my bedroom and get a few more hours’ sleep. “Just images of heaven, that take me to hell. Images of heaven, of something to sell.” Vivid, brief visions flood my dreamland. Friends, lovers, and a girl long since dead peek briefly out of the ether. My eyes open again at about 2 PM. I would let the alarm radio just play, but Prince is on so I hit the snooze button and close my eyes for another eight minutes. Then Journey startles me out of my slumber. I hit the clock a few times until it shuts up. Back into the living room, a friend IM’s me; he wants to chat. I realize that I don’t have time for my usual hot shower in the dark so I throw on a sweater, shoes, and beret. I remember to grab my necklace that I’ve been forgetting to wear. I manage to barley catch the 2:30 bus, running across the street against the light. We make it to Pecos a minute too late to catch my transfer, but there is still someone at the bus stop, I’m in luck the bus is late. Some old man is babbling about socialism (only he doesn’t realize it, he only knows Social Security and his pension.) He rails against the rich, getting fat in their expensive homes while we slave away for pennies. "Why are there million dollar homes when we can’t afford cars?" he asks. I’d go even farther and ‘reeducate’ all car owners with a bullwhip and a blowtorch. A punk with a charged Mohawk sits dispassionately near the back of the bus, ignoring the old man’s rants. I wonder why the only people that dress with any purpose are the blacks in their urban guerilla fatigues and white punks (yes, probably on dope.) I exit the bus across the street from work and walk. My day is just beginning, but it feels like it should be over.