Carbon De-Based

Two nights ago I woke up frightened. I had the oddest dream that if I ever consumed alcohol again, some of my organs were going to explode. I was telling everyone my sad tale; It somehow seemed symbolic. The days are cooling off. I mentioned that I was looking forward to winter and Max, a coworker, mentioned that if he looked forward to winter he would be afraid of missing fall- his favourite season. I thought that was an excellent way to view things. I'm trying to force myself to do less anticipating. Anticipating will be the unhappy death of me if I give it free rein. Free reign. Are we talking horses or aristocracy? I say horses. I was just thinking today about how much I loved those Walter Farley books when I was a kid. I always think about The Island Stallion and how it lived and ran about freely in that secluded cove nestled in the island mountains where all the sugarcane grew. Something about horses in secluded coves makes me want to poop with satisfaction in a small, dark, public bathroom stall.
So, I'm trying to enjoy fall. My senses instinctively(what with that largely being how senses work and all) began to demand the smell and taste of a warm, dry wine rather than cool, heady beer. So I drank lots of Merlot and passed out on the couch last night after watching Ron White, one of the funniest guys I've seen in a while. Today, a loopy lady told me that Amber was the name she gave herself- her "spiritual name". Then she asked me if I liked being called Amber. Names are always so odd. Does anyone ever think of themselves as their name? I just feel carbon-based and easy to kill. I'm not sure whether I like being called Amber or not. I guess I've gone and given away my name now. My blogging pseudonyms no longer hold water. I promise you that I am La Fille du Fromage. I have been for years.
I'm going to Toronto tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. I'm going to see The Faint at Lee's Palace on Sunday. I look forward to this but I'm trying not to anticipate it TOO much. Otherwise, I could miss out on Saturday. And I'm only an easy to kill carbon-based life form. I need all the solid days I can get. John Lennon only lived to forty. Somebody rest his soul. I have to go shower now before the presidential debate comes on at nine.