Afraid of the Dark(Excerpt Part 2)

Raise your flag high
and wave goodbye to the world buddy.
They're sick of being bloody.

Afraid of the Dark(excerpt)

Let's trade a foot for a hand
or maybe an eye for an ear.
Let's build an army and a castle in the sand
to ease our irrational fear.

Are you afraid of the light
or are you afraid of the dark?
Will You grow up with justified vengence?
A bomb always starts with a spark.

Pretty Decent Guy(excerpt)

Photo By Carrie Thomas

There was a time when I was quite romantic.
Do you still recall the flowers dried and hanging
from a nail you pounded to our wall?

When I see the nail, I smell the flowers
and then every little thing just makes me cry.
If I could close my eyes and turn back all the hours
would I find that I'm a pretty decent guy?

After all is said and done,
the things unsaid are what I fear
regretting letting words get stuck behind my throat where you can't hear.

Connecticut and other Near Death Experiences

Saturday I did a show in Connecticut at a sweet little space called Jitters. I addictively sipped peppermint tea throughout the night and did two sets followed by a third short set. If you notice on the setlist, I played flapjacks twice, breaking a sacred rule of not repeating the same song in the same venue on the same night. However, to defend myself, Flapjacks was such a big hit with the people of Jitters...and when people start throwing their panties and screaming for flapjacks, I heat up the griddle like any good cook in the kitchen. It was also the owner of the venue, a sweet woman named Shirley who requested the song. Now how could I refuse? Thank You Shirley for having us. Thank you, Mr. Carpentier for driving me to the show and as always for being the best friend I could ever ask for.

I tip the biggest of hats To Mr McWiggens Chesteraurther III(Chris) for coming all the way down from Vermont to do the pyrotechnics(sound). Once again, to the woman in the red dress. I am really sorry for setting your poodle on fire during the Acoustic Black Sabath tribute.

After the show, we decided to drop by a local bar for a post performance drink. Though the loud hiphop and unfriendly stares initially had me on edge, I thought I would try to just blend in and relax as best I could. I am very white, by the way. I'm like one step away from being an albino.

I hadn't even taken 3 sips when a bar brawl broke out. You know it's bad news when there is a girl on her back on the floor and there are fists flying. I thought people were going to pull out guns. The fight kept shifting around the bar so that we couldn't find a clear path to the exit. I wondered if this was really it? "Oh Jesus, please please please. don't let them pop a cap in my ass."
Would I die in Connecticut? Luckily, we were able to escape.

It is rather funny that people perceive New York as being a dangerous place. The perception of Connecticut is that of someplace more wooded and quiet with chirping birds and cute little farms. Oh Connecticut, with your underbelly of violence, I applaud you for flashing my life before my eyes. Who knew I would one day breath easy arriving in the safety of Brooklyn?

Southington, CT Setlist

Some Crazy tales from the Connecticut road coming soon. For now, here are my set lists from the show at Jitters. A huge thank you to Chris for coming all the way down from Burlington to do the sound for this show.

First set

Walking Song
Flapjacks(unreleased)
God in the Telephone Book(unreleased)
Duct Tape and Superglue(unreleased)
Glitters and Sparkles(unreleased)
Marlboro Man
Life Was Simple(unreleased)
Follow
Mr. Carpentier(unreleased)

2nd Set

Lemon Scented
Selling Out(unlreleased)
Down So Low(unreleased)
Single File(unreleased)
The Siren(unreleased)
Hiding From Your Pain
Before You Go
Paper Bag(Fiona Apple Cover)
Well Formed Man
Afraid of The Dark(unreleased)
Sirens of Brooklyn

3rd Set

Fishnet Sailor
Flapjacks(repeated by request)
This 2 Shall Pass

Life Was Simple

In the third grade I began to dabble in the planting and tending-to of Petunias and other girly flowers. The first signs that I was starting down the slippery slope towards homosexual depravity. It was around this same time that I built the protoype for my first time machine.

These simpler times are fond to my heart. I spent most of my childhood playing in the dirt, riding horses and creating imaginary worlds and languages that only I could see and speak.

Often, I long for the simplicity of a world where the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby and the strange behavior of overproduced washed up white trash pop princesses are not considered newsworthy items.

Buy Me Flowers

Tell me tales.


I just need a strong man to put the wind back in my sails.
I could sail away or I could stay right here.
just need a strong man to make it clear.

Banana

Silly Self Portrait #3

I love you Banana.
You taste good in my mouth.
You are tropical yet familiar.
You keep my muscles from cramping.
I love you Banana.

This Poem Brought to you by the National Banana Board

For Carrie Thomas

Last night I had the pleasure of spending some quality time with the lovely Ms Carrie Thomas, master photographer, writer and general renaissance woman. I had a healthy helping of bacon, one of the ten random things make me happy while she ate her usual buffalo wings. Oh, we are such creatures of habit.

Well, as per our conversation, Carrie, Here you go.

UPCOMING SHOWS!!!

Open Wide

Photo by Carrie Thomas

Last night I had a meeting in Astoria where we brain-stormed on the details of the music video for Open Wide. Some great ideas came flying out and the concept went from skeletal to meaty and flesh covered. I am so excited to be doing this video, and I can't wait to share the details as they unfold.

The song, Open Wide is # 19 on the Sirius Out Q channel, this week.
This is its 15th week on the chart, which is so thrilling. It went to #1 for 3 weeks in a row a little over a month ago, which thrilled my socks off.

You can hear it being played on

Last Call With Jeremy Hovies
Tuesdays - Saturdays 1 am to 7 am ET
on Sirius Channel 106.

You can request the song by sending an email to jhovies@siriusradio.com

French Saturday, Chinese Sunday

Photo by Carrie Thomas

For some odd reason, my weekend was very thematic as though a sorority girl had planned out a list of activities. Maybe tonight is hula night and tomorrow is a 50's themed poodle skirt mixer. Who knows at this point?

Saturday was my French themed adventure with the lovely Mr. Carpentier. We started the evening by dropping my Chez Brigitte for some homecooked French comfort food just like grandma used to make, or at least Mr. M's grandma. My grandma is more of a batter-it-and-fry-it kind of a girl.

The food hit the spot and I give this hidden dining gem 41/2 stars or two thumbs up, depending on your choice of rating system.

After our din din, we scooted uptown to see Hannibal Rising at a theater on 34th street. Interestingly enough, the majority of the movie was set in Paris. We were joined by mister Jimminy Cricket, as my ex-roomate, the Finnish Wonder used to call him. We decided to have a post movie drink at Barracuda, but it was too crowded, so we decided to visit Xes. Once again, the strange French theme continued as they were showing the making of some calendar with French Rugby players on the video screen. I was both horrified and transfixed.

Livers saturated, We all hopped in a cab back to Mr. M's lovely abode, where we decided to watch The Triplets of Belleville, one of my favorite movies of all time, animated or otherwise. I had brought it over for Mr. M to watch and had forgotten it in his DVD player. Coincidence, or just another part of French Saturday, pre-ordained by fate and the mysterious workings of the universe?
I fell asleep watching the triplets and woke to the sound of my phone alarm playing this horribly annoying Chinese Song and kicking off Chinese Sunday. I had a bus to catch.

I was running behind and running through Chinatown as chinese new year seemed to be exploding all around me. The ground was cold and littered with confetti. Small children were throwing small fireworks with small hands. A general jovial jubilation was sweeping through chinatown as I shoved and inched my way ever closer to the Fung Wah Bus. This bus, for those of you that don't know is a $15 each way bat out of hell ride between Boston and New York.

You clench your clawed hand to the railing and watch the space time continuum being bent like a prezel and just pray you make it to your destination in one piece.

For some reason, the Fung Wah bus was not what I had pictured in my head. I had imagined live chickens in cages. In fact there were no chickens, and I was quite disappointed.

I got to Boston in one piece, meeting up with Ryan, Erika's Bass player. We navigated the train system to cambrige and dropped all our gear at All-Asia before leaving to grab a cup of coffee. It was good to have a bit of downtime before the show and it gave me a chance to try and fix my bed-hed which was at its all-time cracked-out high thanks to the Fung Wah trip and having rushed to the bus without time to shower.

Sunday evening, I performed at All-Asia Cafe in Cambridge Mass. The show went very well despite a late start due to some sound issues we had to work out. Once we got the show on the road, though, the evening was a delight.
I want to give a very big and warm thank you to George who brought boyfriend and girl friend in tow.
It was a pleasure to meet all three of you and to hang out after the show. Thank you for the beer and the food and the cab back to the bus.
All of your words and genuine enthusiasm for my music mean a great deal to me.

It has been difficult for me lately as I trudge forward with a strong sense of purpose and and an ever-growing weariness. You made me smile and realize that though things have been feeling a bit daunting and up-hill, I am doing what I need to be doing and there are kind, warm people listening. Thank You.

I caught the 11:30 Fung Wah bus back to NYC, arriving at 3:30 in the morning, exhausted but ultimately really happy, feeling that the trip to Cambridge had been a good show and a much needed though temporary escape from the city.

For those of you who weren't able to make it, below is the set list.



Set List for All Asia in Cambridge
(almost in the order played)

1. Walking Song
2. Sirens of Brooklyn
3. Lemon Scented
4. God in the Telephone Book(unreleased)
5. Follow
6. Follow me Home
7. Mr. Carpentier(unreleased)
8. Life Was Simple(unreleased)
9. Before You Go
10. Flapjacks(unreleased)
11. This 2 Shall Pass

Due to a late start and my incessant banter, Marlboro Man, Down So Low(unreleased), Throw That Box(unreleased), and the Siren(unreleased) were intended to be played but cut from the list.

Duct Tape & Super Glue

I had previously posted that I was working on a song for the new album called, Your Ghost. I am thrilled to announce that I have finished writing the song and its new title is, Duct Tape & Super Glue.

Yay!

Big Apple to Bean Town

This weekend I return to Boston to do a show with fellow Brooklynite, the lovely Ms. Erika Kulnys at the All-Asia Cafe.

Here is footage from my last trip to Boston.
Though I know the quality is not great, you get the general idea.

:)

Every day is moving day
I pack my bags
I'm on my way

My home is where I lay my head
more often it's a sofa than a bed.

Top 10 Random Things that Make me Happy

Photo by Carrie Thomas

1. Pigeons Dancing

2. Baby Pot Belly Pigs(I want one so bad)
Can't you just see me walking through the streets of New York with a pig on a leash?

3. Bacon.
I know this is in direct conflict with #2, but I can't think about it right now. Shouldn't I be able to have my pig and eat it to?

4. Lying on my back in the grass and looking up at the stars especially during a meteor shower. It's so hard to see the stars in the city. I know they'll be there when I hit the road.

5. My guitar, black swan.
Yes, my guitar has a name and I talk to it.

6. Butter.
Everything tastes better with butter. Oh how I love butter.

7. Kissing. It's been so long since I've kissed that I've almost forgotten how lips taste, but oh I love to just kiss for hours. Those first hours of kissing and staring into each other's eyes when you first start to fall in love and your whole body tingles are like butter and bacon at a pigeon dancing contest during a meteor shower.

8. Sliders.
Yes, I'm a dork. It's a short lived Sci-Fi series with Jerry Oconnel who was the hotness. They travel through wormholes to alternate earths and end up in all sorts of odd situations. I download episodes and watch them on my ipod sometimes when I'm falling asleep. Jerry Oconnel, I want to adopt a chinese baby with You.

9. Educational Television
Still a dork. Give me gorillas in the mist, dinosaurs, lava and distant glaxies far far away. I want to know all about black holes, dark matter, supernovas and neutron stars. I want to contemplate human colonization of mars using the skills we've learned here in the field of global warming to heat the atmosphere of the red planet, or as I like to call it, Earth2.

10. Jane Birkin singing Orang Outan from the album Je T'aime.
Oh Serge and Jane. Those were magical days. This is an album that is good for making love, Sunday brunch or for those days when you need a little bit of a pick me up.

S.O.B #8

I am pleased to announce that Sirens of Brooklyn is the #8 album for January on the OutVoice chart on Rainbow World Radio.

The chart is based upon listener requests.
You can go here to vote for the album.

Still be on my feet

Every year, without exception, Valentine's Day leaves me feeling lonely, underappreciated and unwanted. Yes, I know it may seem a bit overly dramatic, but it is true. These feeling are compounded by thoughts that I am pathetic for having these feelings at all.

This year I agreed to do two shows that were semi-vday-centric, the day before and the day of Valentine's Day.

There is something about rushing from place to place by yourself lugging guitars and equipment that starts to lose its romanticism after a while. I love to perform. I love to create music and art, but I also find myself at times feeling as though I am constantly walking up a hill with the wind against my chest. Yesterday, The wind was brutally cold and literally blowing my guitar like a sail on a boat bringing a palpable truth to these feelings. This hill does not allow one to rest. There is no top and cheerleaders are few and far between.

My new least favorite thing is performing in a space that was not originally designed for performance and having the one song I'm performing act as a sound check for itself. I don't need a dressing room with champagne and all the red M&M's removed for me, but I must start setting some boundaries from this point forward. It is a learning process or as some have worded it
'paying your dues.'

After last night's performance I was duped by two guys on the corner into believing that Michael Jackson had died from food poisoning, reminding me that no matter how long I've lived in New York, I am a midwesterner by heart and extremely gullable. The punchline of this joke was that Michael had died from eating a can of 12 year old nuts. Yes, I know, it's a sad sad joke.

I got a seat on the train and was on the verge of tears. I reached into my pocket to pull out my big bubble headphones so I could put myself into a Joni Mitchell sadness coma, but instead managed to empty the contents of my pockets all over the ground in the train. A group of lovely stranges all had things to say to me, like
"Looks like you need to pull yourself together."
..or..
"You dropped something"...of course that something was so far under the seat on the floor of the subway that I couldn't reach it and really didn't want to ever have to touch it again with the knowledge of where it had been. I imagine they all thought me to be drunk, but I was painfully sober.

I pressed my head against my guitar case and began to cry.
A case of you, it's such a beautiful song.

I was shooting for the stars
when I hit my head against the sky
and found the thing that feeds my soul
is also the thing that bleeds me dry.
and I've forgotten who I am
and I've forgotten how to dream
and there are clouds inside my ears
and I am running out of steam.

SQSFIMRSJM Seeking NEFM

28 Year Old Single Quirky stuborn fiercely independent Musician, Romantic, slightly Jaded(see previous post) seeking NEFM(Non-existent Fantasy man)

Must be tall, attractive but not too attractive, blue eyed, dark haired, pale skinned,intelligent, physically fit, emotionally sensitive, attentive to my needs, free of emotional baggage, a good kisser, a good listener, commitment minded, music lover, art lover, world traveler, multi-lingual, enjoyer of chess, a player of billiards with slightly less skill than my own, honest, passionate, opinionated but able to admit fault, posseser of an odd sense of humor, ice skater, snowboarder, kayaker, chaser of ocean waves, stargazer, camper, fisherman, dreamer, future-porch-rocking-chair-co-whittler, snuggler, bacon lover, neck caresser, ear whisperer, horserider, running buddy, juggler, strong handed, soft tempered, father material, husband material, unmaterialistic man.

I forgive you, YES YOU!

A letter to my classmates

Recently I have begun to receive bits of correspondence from high school classmates. All of these digital messages are full of exclaimations and friendly wording. Instead of responding to each message individually, I am going to now write a general response.


To You, my former classmates;

I dreaded every day that I was forced to attend public school with you. You teased me until I cried and then you teased me for crying. You tortured me. I held razor blades to my wrists and a handgun to my head, thinking that maybe if I just killed myself, I could make it stop. Those of you who didn't call me a faggot on a daily basis or trip me as I was trying to just walk to my locker, turned the other way and did not defend me or laughed along.

You were all horrible to me, so why after 10 years should we now share cordial conversation? I left the town where I went to high school and have never returned nor looked back, fearing that doing so might turn me into a biblical pillar of salt. You may have some sort of fond memory of me, but I do not share such sentiments for you. To this day when I walk into a crowded room of strangers my chest constricts and I am uneasy, reminded of when I was bombarded by your slurs, spit, stares and even your fists. I am forever scarred by your actions and it has been a slow painful healing process.

I wish you no ill will. I hope you all have wonderful lives, with peace and fulfillment. I hope you have grown to be better people, but I have no reason to correspond with you beyond this letter. There is no memory lane. I forgive you, but I carry your angry 13 year old face with me forever. That was enough. I don't know you now and I don't want to.



Sincerely,

Robert German

The gypsy fortune teller and the Jaded songwriter

Photo by Carrie Thomas

2 years ago on old hallow's eve, I sat across from a gypsy fortune teller waiting to hear my future and my fate fall from her mouth.

She looked me in the eyes and told me that I am unhappy. She told me that I pretend to be happy for others but that there is deep pain behind my smile. Her initial assesment of my then present state was pretty acturate, so I decided to listen further. Mind you, it doesn't take a brain surgeon or a telepath to realise the rather obvious signs that I'm not the most contented of people.

At the time, I had become re-involved with my exboyfriend, because sometimes beating your head against a brick wall isn't enough. You want to do it a second time to make sure you leave a lasting reminder not to throw your heart in the quisenart for a third time.

The gypsy proceeded to tell me that I was in a relationship with a man and that he was all wrong for me. Once again, no brain surgeon or telepath needed on that one. Even I knew I was kidding myself by thinking time could cure sociopathic neurosis.

She continued by telling me that I would never be wealthy but never be destitute... and then the kicker. The final words of the gypsy haunt me to this day. She told me that I would never have a lasting relationship. I would be doomed to search fruitlessly for love to die old and alone, having never found a soulmate.

Earlier this week, I was told by a friend that perhaps I am jaded. My heart sank a bit to admit that this is possibly true. I have become one of those people who has accepted eating in a restaurant alone as a normal non-pathetic activity. It is the day before Valentine's Day and for me, it will pass like any other day. I no longer flirt or seek the attention of anyone. I have essentially closed myself off to love. I tell myself at times that I'm too busy for another romantic entanglement. I tell myself that I am focused on my goals. I tell myself that time kissing could be spent restringing my guitar.
but really, I am just a jaded songwriter sharing tattered pieces of his heart. I once delighted in the thought of sneaking up to your door with roses behind my back. Now I am more concerned about hurting my fingers...in the words of the great Axel Rose....."Every rose has its thorn."

The Weekend: a recap

photo from genderoffenders.com

Friday, I traveled to Asbury Park for my first New Jersey show and quite possibly one of the strangest shows I've ever done. It was wonderful to see the lovely Mr. Carpentier, who traveled all the way from Brooklyn for the show. It was equally delightful to see Richard and Marc, owners of Excelsior Bar in Brooklyn who also treked down to the shore for the weekend.

I was joined by the incredibly talented Mr. Jeff Cubeta (kaboodle) of Kitt and Kaboodle fame who rocked that piano in ways it's never been rocked before.

A special thanks to Chris and Joe for traveling to the show. It was great meeting both of you guys, and I hope you are enjoying the album. :)

We got back to NYC at 3:30 am. I passed out and didn't wake up until 3:30 in the afternoon. I ate a lovely brunch served up by Mr. C and then passed out again for 2 hours. I have been so sleep deprived lately. It was great to finally have some dreams.

Saturday Night.....
I rushed with bed-head to Union Square to see the Gender Offender's Valentine's Massacre which was a lot of fun. Afterwards I chatted and chuckled with the always glowing and slap-a-knee pop-a-kidney funny, Allison Castillo. We were joined at the after-party by the multitalented Greg Walloch. All in all it was a thoroughly wonderous evening.

R.I.P. Anna Nicole

Anna Nicole Smith
1967-2007

What does Kenny Loggins want from me?

As random and strange as it is, I have begun to receive email updates on the career of Kenny Loggins. Why, might I ask has this strange development emerged? I mean, I'm sure Kenny Loggins is awesome and all, but how did he infultrate the walls and systems I have put in place to keep him from contacting me?

Yes, we all remember the movie Top Gun, and who could forget Footloose, and the title track that was like shock and awe for my ears. We have all been dazzled at times by kenny's brilliance. I know that personally, I cried 1 tear in 1994 when Kenny released his heartfelt children's album, Return to Pooh Corner.

But still....I fall to my knees, lifting my eyes to the sky, screaming

WHY? Why did you do it Kenny?
WHY?

Ho Ho Mo

Last week, I did an interview for Homopod Radio, a great podcast dedicated to spotlighting "Out" musicians. They have been fierce supporters of my music and it is one of the most enjoyable interview I've done. I giggle a lot. :)
The interview is now up for your listening pleasure.

Maybe It's just a phase

Time goes faster and faster the older that you get.
I must be getting really old, because it seems to fly now.
It's like you're in a jerking rollercoaster climbing up the first
height. The top of this hump is age 20 and then you see over the edge and before you know it, your stomach is pressed against your throat and your face is stretched out like an upper-east side plastic surgery victim.

You scream weeeeeeeeeeeee....

Yes, life is just a rollercoaster ride full of ups and downs and the ride is over much faster than you ever realised. Some of us hold tightly to the safety bar, while others ride with our hands outstretched, towards the sky.

I find that when a love relationship ends, it goes in phases, at least for me. I seem to have the worst luck with relationships. I must have done something in a past life that has condemned me to live out relationship after relationship with horribly tragic and dramatic endings.

The first phase for me is anger, which only lasted a day. The second phase involves drowning my sorrows, which lasted two days and the third phase is making out with a cute boy, which has somehow already happened. Normally these phases of healing for me take months. Yes, the rollercoaster is freefalling fullthrottle and my hands are over my head.

I wish I could fall helplessly and completely in love. With each instance of heartbreak, I become slightly harder, a little deadened. I wish I could fall like someone who doesn't know that there isn't always someone there to catch them. Maybe I can regain this unabashed romantic stuper that consumes so many 14-20 year olds, compulsively scribbling hearts, arrows and soon-to-be forgotten names into their notebooks....maybe this is just a phase.

Fuck You...yes YOU!

Fuck You. You don't deserve to have me in your life.
I want to say I don't love you, but it wouldn't be true and
I'm not going to lie to appear strong.
I love you more than I've ever loved anyone and
yet I found myself so unable to express it.

I tried to repress it, but up it rises now...out my eyes
and down my cheaks.

I hope he makes you happy.
How dare you not have the respect to at least call me?
You left me for him over IM?
Fuck You. You don't deserve to have me in your life.

I want to remove your name from my liner notes.
I want to unwrite that song.
I opened my mouth, but I should have kept it closed.
How ironic.

Broken Inside

I am broken inside
unfixably broken
You have spoken words of love
without the balls to back them
I would kick you there if you didn't lack them.

I want you to be happy. Isn't that crazy?

My chest is burning. I can't breathe.
My eyes are watering.
My throat is a lump that I can't swallow.
I feel hollow with your voice echoing through my insides
reverberating against my guts, my bones, my ribs
beating against the parts that have no give.
the little brittle spots I thought I'd killed.
They are pulsing..pounding so loudly I can't
hear anything but the blood in my ears.
and every fear.

My breath has been taken.
My fingers are numb.
I am struck dumb and have fallen back to where I crawled from.

My Thursday Night by Robert German

My Thursday night was lots of fun. I went to see my friend, Matt Stoops do a show. He plays guitar and sings. He was very good. I had a beer and talked with my friend, Katie. Katie is very pretty. She played a show last week and it made me happy to see her play so good.

I got to listen to Sam Phillips with Mr. Carpentier. He is a very nice person and I think he liked her music a lot.

I like Thursdays and bacon. I drew this picture for you to see.

311

Photo by the one and only Carrie Thomas

If it weren't for telemarketers I'd have no one to talk to.
I sit by the phone, hoping they will call. I started signing myself up for all of these online promotions, giving my home phone number in hopes that just maybe I'll be lucky enough to get on one of those lists that spread like wildfire until everyone from visa to vagisil is calling me.

You want to know if I own a car?
Why, no, I don't. It's been so long since someone really listened.
You're such a good listener.
Are you single?
*click*

This is the third telemarketer who has hung up on me, today.
What am I doing wrong? I just want to be loved.

I had this dream that I called 311 to complain about a flickering street light and the man who answered the phone
had this voice that was smooth like a chocolate milk shake.

I curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and told him all of my fantasies.
He told me that his shift ends at 6 and that we should take a flight to the bahamas.

I told him I had things to do, but he insisted. He assured me that as a man in the high stress world of underwear modeling, that the Bahamas really help him to relax. He asked me if I liked having shakespeare read to me after making hot passionate love and eating fresh pineapple. I said, I couldn't see anything wrong with this. He asked me if I wanted to adopt a chinese baby and grow old with him. I told him I couldn't be sure until we met. He told me he was a member of mensa and that if I needed to see his picture, I just had to take the train to Broadway Lafayette and look at the big billboard for Calvin Klein. He told me he was a virgin and wanted me to be his first.

I woke up with a headache and the blurry image of my laptop screensaver flickering through pictures of nature.
I took a long cold shower and sat by the phone. I wondered if there were any street lights flickering. I thought about calling 311.