Early Sunday morning. It is Sunday, isn't it?

Not that I care.

I'm sitting in the Classen Blvd IHOP at 2:05 AM. The place is packed. I wonder if it's like this every night or if this is a weekend phenomenon. Either way, the place is a lot busier than Beverly's usually is.

Needless to say, my sleep cycle is still upside down. But over the past few days, I've started to not care. My daily life is about the same if I'm awake during the day or awake during the night.

I've ordered a breakfast T-bone and scrambled eggs. That's about a million calories, but it's probably the only thing I'll eat today. I'm down to eating once a day.

I realized I'm tired of food. Tired of looking at it, tired of smelling it, tired of eating it. I've eaten every kind of food I care to try; I seek no new culinary experience. Now it's just some biomass to shove in my maw to keep my meatbag producing shit, piss, sweat, pus, puke, dandruff, etc.

Damn, this is a big steak.