December 8th, 2004.

Tonight we headed out to the Century Lounge – I’m tired of empty bars and smatterings of applause. Already I miss home. Maybe it’s just the weather, but there’s just no ENTHUSIASM here. Sigh. But Rob got up on stage with us and rocked out…. that at least was very nice.

I just wish the RAIN would STOP! Looking outside, it’s like London or something.

And my computer has melted my cookies. Damn the world.

Waking up this morning to a steamy apartment may well be a result/product/instigator for my dreams. Quite a dream. Wow… whattadream. I’m not ABOUT to recount it in my Journal.

The heat in Rob’s apartment here in Providence isn’t so much like heat – it’s more like summer in the Amazon while desperately calling the air conditioner repair guy. And then I took a shower. The shower head is a frightening beast, much like a water cobra rearing its head above the shower curtain… and the Amazon imagery is only increased.

Finally there’s sunshine outside – and Heather is unconscious on the floor. Not surprising, really. We were lulled into a false sense of security by Monday night’s dead silence… but apparently Tuesday night is when the wind picks up and all the windows rattle… and the trash pickup occurs at some unGodly hour (I thought they might be towing our car, but I was so tired I couldn’t bring myself to get up for THAT even) – and on top of everything else, the little daemons inside the radiators were doing crack and throwing soda cans at each other inside their steamy little habitats.

Gooood shower though. Cold one. In deference to the dream.

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