Weird... so weird...

I slept through yesterday. It happens.

I slept through yesterday, so

(Am I the only one around here that gets happy when Neko Case's cover of Buckets of Rain comes on?)

I didn't get a chance to tell you about Monday night. Here's the deal: I was at Wal-Mart (or as I like to call it, home), walking the dogs before sleepy-time, when I saw a cop pull into the parking lot. My instinct was "No way..." and then I told myself not to be ridiculous. It's true I've been getting lots of attention, but surely not every police officer in eastern NC is obsessed with me. Right? So I watched him pull in, and when he failed to turn down my aisle I told myself "Told ya'." I continued to watch while he drove the length of the aisle he had turned down, without stopping, and my eyebrows went up slightly when he turned back toward me. Within seconds it became clear that, yes, he was indeed looking for... that's right... me. Unbelievable.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" (Why, of course you can. How can I help you?) I'm still pretty foggy from my 36 hours of sleep, so the details elude me, but he took my license, ran it along with my plate number, and made it clear that he'd been in contact with the security team here at Mayfaire (the mall wherein is located my current Starbucks as well as my current Barnes & Noble). He made reference to the dogs barking -

You know what? Fuck it. It doesn't even matter. The point is that he was checking on me. I am officially (or possibly unofficially, but still obviously) a person of interest to the Wilmington Police Department. The Wrightsville Beach Police Department seems to have fallen back - presumably because I haven't been there in a couple of days, but at this rate I can't imagine that making much of a difference...

Okay, listen. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm really fucked up/foggy. I'll try to make more sense later. Suffice it to say, they keep on coming. I guess this is what it means to be a vagrant. I'm used to being harassed - as most of us are aware - but I have a breaking point, you know? It comes all at once, usually. Everything is very entertaining until it isn't, and as soon as it isn't, it becomes instantly unbearable. Monday night came close to unbearable, but maybe the extra sleep put some extra padding on my buffer zone. We'll see, I guess.

But for realzies, I'm not doing anything different here than I do at home. Can you imagine if Gene went after everyone at Starbucks that hung out for more than a couple of hours a day? Jesus Christ...