I am so tired. I still have hundreds of things I need to do, but they will have to wait until morning. I feel like some low-grade 1960s aesthete recovering from a week of shooting up speed. Or at least an 1980s para-aesthete coming down off two days of snorting speed. Or maybe just a 2000s anaesthete paying the price for one too many cups of coffee. Any way you slice it, though, I need to hit the futon. Maybe I'll put on some European movie to dream by.