What a strange weekend. Hunter S. Thompson's suicide. Sandra Dee's passing. John Raitt too. Bizarre Sacto weather: Tornadoes! Within near-spitting distance of my house.

A three-day weekend and it definitely felt long but not quite as relaxing or refreshing as I'd hoped. Not that I kept super-busy but the onslaught of rain and death news certainly did much to dampen the spirit.

Thompson's suicide didn't necessarily surprise me - he seemed like the kind of guy who would decide upon that kind of exit - but it' nonetheless sad.

I was going to write more but I just recognized this nagging, nausea-inducing sense of listlessness and melancholy that's persisted since the alarm first went off at 6:45 a.m. this morning. Suicide, death, rain, tornadoes stretching out to make three days feel like a year. And now here it is Tuesday and it feels like Monday but also feels like next week and I can't figure up from down or inside from out.

It's not exhaust really, it's just emotional fatigue.