I’m up and on the computer at 4:45 in the morning because my brain refused to spin down without knowing the name of those awful little cigarettes my ex used to bring back from France. After tossing and turning for far too long, I gave up and turned to the Internet to save my sanity. Gauloises. Why couldn’t I remember that, and what the hell difference does it make?

It reminds me of a great James Thurber story, “More Alarms in the Night,” in which a young James scares the ever-living shit out of his father in the middle of the night because he (James) can’t remember the name “Perth Amboy.” Not many books make me truly laugh out loud, but The Thurber Carnival gets me every time, even after a dozen reads.

Alright, I’m going to have a drink, dig out my copy of the Carnival, and try again to get some sleep. Hotness in the morning/afternoon/whenever I get up.