On the Pleasure of Hating?

With the advent of fall semester, the abrupt transformation of nightly insomnia into daily narcolepsy, and the fairly constant hilarity/shame of my not doing any work that doesn't involve fuzzy yellow balls (for more information on fuzzy yellow balls, visit fuzzyyellowballs.com), my head has agreeably exited this mortal plane for a spectator's ticket to the weird horse racing of souls around the Nevertrack in Plato's Phaedrus.

So after playing the worst tennis in months--and why not?--I came home, pouted for an hour or so, ate, took solace in Mushroom, who partially restored me to my old brainless self, and then, in a grand mal fit of prudence, decided to stretch for tomorrow's match. As a result, my body now aches from all the stretching. I do believe I did it wrong.

Anyway, a day of things taking their toll. I'm off to watch a movie about Bavarians suffering from epilepsy and schizophrenia. Yikes!