Don't Stop Me Now.

I'M HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME. I'M HAVING A BALL.

I'm feeling pretty stellar. Last night was just about THE MOST STELLAR DAY IN THE PAST TWO MONTHS OR SO, despite the general occupied trend of my past few days. It's pretty crazy, and I don't know where to begin. I think I'll begin with the weather, because that's how all small-talk works. We'll start small and work our way up.

Yesterday was sweltering. It was just HOT. There's no good word for it beyond that. Humid, stagnant, breezeless HOT. The whole day was like that, and it was nice to just parade around in sandals for a change. The heat kind of got to me though, and it held hands with my exhaustion from the night before, which ended on a kind of tense note as I was trying to resolve some anxiety Claire'd been feeling, and chose to do so in my typical confrontational, upfront, A-is-A manner. It wasn't the best way to go about things, because I'd wound up making everyone agitated, but it kind of resolved. Sort of. I think there's still some residual stuff, but I'm-...

Well, that has NO REAL BEARING on what I'm trying to say. I was up until 1:00 AM being pushy and forward, and then fixing the fact that I was pushy and forward. The fact that I usually crash at like, 10:00 PM and wake up at 5:00 really does me in, because I wound up facing the heat exhausted, and it culminated in a bad headache - my jog? I could like, feel my brain rattling in my skull. It was pretty terrible. Like PLAYING YAHTZEE WITH MY NOODLE.

I was kind of anticipating one of those hot, still evenings where it's just hot enough to be pleasant. Instead, a massive, massive torrential downpour came after an hour of still thunder and lightning that crackled around the full moon. It was pretty amazing. More amusing, I don't know what sort of event was going on but standing outside last night in itself was amusing. You see, for some reason, the apartment juxtaposed to mine?

 HAD A GREEN DAY COVER-BAND, A VERY BAD ONE, PLAYING BRAIN STEW AND A FEW LOVE BALLADS AT 11:00.

Does it stop there, Zack? Is that the end of late-night shenanigans?
Surely there's something funnier...

YOU BET YOUR ASS IT GETS BETTER!

See, once the lightning began, it began without rain, non-stop, and so bright that you could momentarily see entire spans of the city lit-up like some sort of colossal God or Alien Overlord had taken a snapshot of it with an equally colossal Polaroid camera. It was beautiful, and I wasn't the only one who thought so, because you see, there were a couple of drunken frat-boys at the end of the street, beers in hand, discussing it with AWESTRUCK STONER WONDER, which I will now quote below:

WOOOOAAAAH-...LOOK AT IT MAN. THAT WAS A MONSTER OF A THUNDER. LOOK AT IT. IT'S STILL GOING. THAT'S AMAZIN', DUDE. THAT'S FUCKIN' CHOICE. DO YOU THINK ANYONE TELLS THAT WHAT TO DO? THERE'S NO "GOVERNMENT AGENCY" THAT REGULATES THAT, BRAH. THAT SHIT'S UNTAMED. FUCKIN' MASTERPIECE, MAN.

I snrk'd harder than I'd openly snrk'd in a long time. 
I laughed like a damned hyena.

Shortly after, this torrential downpour began, at which point I donned sandals and stood out in it for a bit, and I did so with really great company on the other side of the globe doing the same and enjoying a particularly BALMY AND PLAYFUL breeze that'd kicked up. I laughed at the fact that I just emphasized balmy and playful, but it was distinctly such. 

Did a little roleplaying for the first time in a long time - I've had one of those dry-spells. I haven't really been into much ever since Onni passed away - he was kind of my go-to-guy for adventure, and nothing really felt the same without 'em. Me, and a fellow friend who used to play with him have been trying to kind of fix the weird, "Don't want to write anything," spell that was cast on us without Onni, so we've begun writing together. Last night featured a pretty great dramatic hostage situation. The captors reminded me a lot of the Patron-Minette Gang from Hugo's Les Misérables. In addition, I got to write about plum liquor. While I've heard it tastes a lot like Pedialyte, I've had a slight fascination with plum liquor ever since attempting to make my own Umeboshi, and seeing how neat it looks with little salted plums suspended in it over ice.

Plus, Characters Who Drink Liquor are cool. They always seem aloof, carefree, and intriguing.

Same thing with people who smoke anything other than cigarettes, like a pipe or cigars!

Anyways, where was I?

Crap, I don't really remember where I was going with this, so I'll end-out on a Recipe for Life:

THE AMAZIN' FUCKIN' CHOICE MASTERPIECE

 (Serves the entirety of a Green Day cover-band audience)

Ingredients:

1 full Green Day Cover-Band (rotten, lyrics coarsely chopped)
½ day Sweltering Heat.

½ day Torrential Downpour

3 Frat Boys (pickled)  
Thunder and Lightning (deveined with regulating Government Agencies removed)
1 Wonderful Person on the Other Side of the Globe

1 Moon (full)

1 bout Roleplay

1. Preheat oven to 10—³²° Kelvin, and add Sweltering Heat. When contents erupt into a firey conflagration, reduce to a low boil and add Torrential Downpour.
2. Add Green Day Cover-Band and Frat Boys. Stir in Thunder and Lightning until amusing awestruck statements and love-ballads punctuate your boil.
3. Spoon the contents of your day over your pre-admired Wonderful Person on the Other Side of the Globe, and place the full Moon on top. This should bring out many wonderful facets and unexplored yet pleasant flavors of exciting bipolarity.
4. Garnish with a sprig of Roleplay. Serve thoroughly pleased, amused, and otherwise Fuckin' Choice.

Third Time's the Concern.

I've been having nightmares, and I think they may have something to do with the perpetual state of fairly-unaddressed stress I've been operating within. On the other hand, they may be a product of legitimately unsettling things that have been waking me up - I'm not certain.

I don't recall what my first dream was, but I recall waking in one of those audible "Haah!?" fashions, where I abruptly sat-up and made a noise a whole lot like that. I recited the dream, but apparently that didn't help because I can't remember it. I'm almost certain, however, that it involved post-nuclear war living.

That's been a running factor, and was actually quite vivid and even almost fourth-wall breakingly acknowledged in my second dream.

The dream began with me acknowledging that I've been returning too often to post-war living, essentially. I was in an overgrown field of dead grass, and I was not alone. I had a small band of exactly three people with me, but I don't remember who they were or what they looked like. We approached this decrepit manor-home and we began kind of ransacking it for supplies. It was empty mind you, but some of the heavy make-shift locks and such implied that for awhile, someone had lived there. There were lots of pieces of mahogany furniture, and they were all dusty and baked by the sun or bombs. I remember going into a room with a heavy lock on it and finding out that it was a little boy's room. There were lots of toys and posters, and I think I cried. There were distinctly two computers, and we were all quite eager to take them with us to see if we could establish a connection somewhere and find out if there were other people out there, where to find them, and if the war was officially over yet.

A man - he had a beard and short hair, and was distinctly carrying a shotgun - was pacing up the interior of one of the broken hallways, and we all kind of hid. I face a doorway, and as the barrel of his shotgun passed it, I folded it into my underarm, and startled him. I quickly explained what we were doing, and that it was good to see someone else alive, and that we could kind of help provide for one another. He agreed that working as a team sounded good, and I let go of his gun. I kneeled to pick up something and he shot me, leaving me painfully aware of his intentions to take our provisions and our lives, as none of us were armed to my knowledge.

I must have lived because I recall a scene where I was running towards a collapsed shed, and bizarre facsimiles of field-mice were around me.

Today, I dreamed my apartment was full of fleshless, featureless people. It was dark, and they were around in many numbers and sometimes contorted into unexpected and unconventional positions, so I was worried in particular about being taken by surprise. I squeezed myself between a safe and a hot-water heater, because there was little to worry about but my front. I could hear them approaching, though, and I began to panic, because I wasn't able to open the safe, which was presumably full of firearms.

I awoke to the sound of the Storm Sirens going off, and what I can only call the most terrifying trainwhistle I've ever had the displeasure of hearing. I'm typically a fan of trainwhistles, especially while I'm trying to sleep. There was something I'd read about, where trainwhistles were supposed to be a sign that you'd begun to become too comfortable, and it just kind of stuck. I like to go out on jogs when the trains are out. And if the trains are out and it's raining, I'm particularly joyous.

...But this thing, it exploded like a bomb, and it was forceful, and drawn, and exceptionally low. It scared me witless.

I don't know what's causing these night-terrors, but I'm growing more and more concerned for my mental state. I sincerely hope it is just stress and that I'll be happier when it's all said and done. It's just kind of a jarring, unsettling thing in the meantime, and I don't know what to do.