The reports of my crackheadedness are highly exarggerated. Aside from drugs, my roomates are xtasy slinging hard core right wing republicans with a penchant for buggering nymphomaniaicle coke-head gymnists. Well only one likes to bang athletic prepubescent college enrolled midgets. The other is rather sweet, and non-communicative, except he has a terrible tendancy to vote for buchanan. I am definetly writing too much in my life. I need to expend less pychic energy and absorb more. New york suffers from blockbuster syndrome: paralyzation due to overstimulation, and cheep drugs and expensive alchohol. It also is very disjointed like my writing at this current state. I think i'm becoming an insomniac. I daydream about sleeping. Rats deprived of REM sleep for two weeks die, human begin to hallucinate after three days, I wonder what happens to us after two weeks? i'd like to think i'm hardier than a rat, but you know seeing some of the rats around here i doubt it. I attempted to intravenusly imbibe Cream, but vinyl doesn't realy liquify enough in a blender. Cream is explosivly good. I mean that in such a short period of time they created some of the most incredible music. I must go now morpheus beckons, as does meg, but i don't think i'll listen to her.