Very early this morning, still mostly asleep, I found myself furiously punching my pillow — three times very hard. Because — not sure this is accurate but — the “State Dept” was going to rain down war propaganda and I had been trying to write a substitute but I couldn’t get them to rain down my peace propaganda instead.

Teeth clenched, brow furrowed. All muscles tensed. Total physical rage.

This frustration interspersed with a simultaneous nightmare about not getting credit for working on a textbook at the press where I used to work, the very textbook I worked on when I was injured (at least in the nightmare), and also the endless stringing along of my workers comp case. NO ONE WOULD GIVE ME JUSTICE.

I think I took too much thyroid yesterday — the pharmacy had given me a holdover pill until I could get my prescription filled — dividing it into my proper dosage was guesswork.

It was either that or the effects of trying to sustain myself on bits of caffeine while so exhausted… or the birth control pills… or working too much … or more probably the strange things I ate yesterday — including, in lieu of dinner, a half pint of Godiva Belgian Dark Chocolate ice cream. Followed by a midnight snack of gyoza…

The gyre widens…

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