There's no point in trying to sleep. I'll drift off, yeah, I'll doze. But my nose will clog up and my side will get sore because, look at me, I'm on the ground sleeping in a bag again.

And I know I've done this to myself, it's been my choice, so there's no point in wallowing in it. "Everything I get, I deserve," has been my mantra lately, it's a great way to justify bad times and to not get caught up in the good times.

It's just a low point of the tour. We're low on cash, B got sick and we missed out on $100something tonight, which in the grand scheme of things is not much, but it would have kept us from going under on the trip.

I can't be mad at B, but I am. Can't help it. Just the way he carries on, making himself the center of attention. It's unhealthy to think like this, right? Ashamedly unempathetic, mind you ashamedly because I know it's not his fault he's crawling on the ground, throwing up water and Pepto Bismol.

It's like I expect a corpse to just get up and walk again, but I can't stop the anger/disappointment when he doesn't. Maybe it was the way he shushed when I asked him if he'd thrown up the ginger ale I bought him, like my concern was what was hurting him.

Things didn't go our way today, that's all I can do to explain my frustration. Simple reaction to a negative stimulus. Win some, lose some.

I feel better, getting it out. Such a front that I put on in the real-world, but at least it's a pleasant thing to do.