So, yeah

I think ...
I think I'm about to sneeze.

I'm reading Henry Miller now.
I don't know if I am reading him because it is a challenge, or because it's something I want to do. I've read about 100 pages, and I find my mind slipping off the page every few paragraphs and thinking to myself ...
Hey, I'm reading fucking Henry Miller!

I think ...
I think I am about to sneeze again.
And again
And again
And again
And again
And again.

I think my whole body has morphed into some sort of other worldly life form
Like Chet
From Weird Science
After Lisa
The computer generated
Perfect woman
Turns him into a massive heap of snot and phlegm.
Which is rather Kafka-esque, don't you think.

Man, do I miss Gary and Wyatt.