A bird just flew into the window

It fell to the deck and sorta flopped around for a bit. Then it coughed up blood and eventually stopped flopping. Great.

Last night I finally got around to watching Wonderland, in which junkie pornstar John Holmes (played by a cipher-like Val Kilmer) double crosses his small-time dealer pals, then to make amends with them he double crosses a big-time dealer, and then to make amends with the big-time dealer, he double crosses his small-time dealer friends. The big-time dealer sends his goons to the small-time dealers' apartment in the middle of the night, and bludgeoning occurs. It's based on a true story,

[you know what, I gotta take care of that dead bird]

[OK, done]

... so during the bludgeoning sequence the director was inspired to insert actual crime scene photos of the aftermath. That was fucking cheery. And me being innately curious, I had to rewind and freeze frame on the photos, and I was thoroughly disgusted and saddened. The played-by-Janeane-Garofalo victim looked somewhat like a woman who worked in my high school, but I guess a perosn who's had their skull crushed by a lead pipe can start to resemble anyone.

I tried to tell myself that these four victims (a fifth bludgeonee survived) were junkie scum, but the film does a disservice by not portraying them as such. You don't think, "These people were junkie trash, and their eventual ugly end was a certainty," you think, "My, what lovely blue eyes, clear skin, and lustrous salon-quality hair you have, Mr. Junkie." The big-time dealer was lent no such sympathy, as he was played by the gifted actor/playwright/creepy fucker Eric Bogosian.

Aaaanyway, after thoroughly creeping myself the fuck out and doing some Wikipedia/Crime Library research, it was time for bed. And hey, what's better than a white chocolate/macadamia nut cookie before bed? What's that, you say? A cookie will only serve to give me a mild sugar rush at 3 a.m., keeping me awake longer in the fucking pitch blackness of my room, leaving me prey to the memory of the awful images I witnessed just a half-hour previous? And every few minutes I'll have to reach over to the other side of the bed to make sure a bludgeoned woman isn't lying next to me? And my mom's houseguest is a snorer, so she may be moaning as if being murdered in her sleep, but just ignore it? Oh, OK.

I dreamed that I got a girl pregnant after the one time we had unprotected sex, and that was like a trip to Disneyworld compared to what I could have dreamed. And now there's this dead bird sitting in the branches of a pine tree, because my shovel-flinging sucks.

Cheers, everybody.

Take care of yourselves ... and each other.