No Silverfish . . .

Casa de Stark is 842 square feet, yet it took over 4 hours for professional cleaners to make the place look spic and span. Am I that much of a slob? OK, don't answer that.

Anyway, here's the big irony of the day. Now that Casa de Stark is at its most women-friendly in my three year residency, I'm hoping to blow this pop stand within the next month.

Everybody's Happy As The Dead Come Home . . .

Once in a while, I have frustrating moebius-loop train of thoughts rather than a restful night of dreams where I'm smooching old unrequited loves. I'm awake enough that I'm aware of the green LED light of my bedstand clock (Sharper Image CD / Radio Alarm - very chic), but I'm too tired to get my ass out of bed and warm myself up some milk or continue drinking until I'm passed out. I'm conscious enough to try to make rational sense of the thoughts racing through my head, but dozy enough that those thoughts make absolutely no sense at all.

So, while I was trying to let my eyelids just close, I felt a huge malaise. An image of a downtrodden young woman passed through my head. She was looking down, avoiding eye contact. And the reason why she was looking depressed was because suddenly, it was possible to revive the dead. I could feel a shiv going through my kidney, and feeling oddly sad that it didn't matter. The next day, nanotech could bring me back to life and I'd be back doing the same thing over and over again. In fact, I don't even have to die. With nanotech and quantum processing, you can actually make a person with the same exact memories and experiences. One's soul was no longer unique. And for the next two hours, I was extrapolating the ethical and technological issues that arose.

Sheesh, imagine if I had actually taken any psychotropic drugs.