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March 10, 2003
He lives at the end of the train line, which gives him his only opportunity for deep sleep: The evening commute. His days are tedium; his nights are chaos. By day, he makes his eyelids do pushups to stay in the game. At night, the screaming jerks him out of his slumber just as the opening credits are rolling in his dreams. He reads the first chapter of a book, only to forget the words as soon as his eyeballs shift paragraphs. He blasts himself stupid with the volume control on the television. He dances a jig on the platform.