Dumb.

I've made some really poor decisions in my day, but definitely one of the dumbest things I've done in a while was pick up Helter Skelter and decide to read it before bed last night.

Fuck. Me.

The book is about the 1969 Manson Family murders, and Vincent Bugliosi's prosecution of Charles Manson and his followers.

There's nothing like getting completely absorbed by the play-by-play of a diabolical murder scheme before turning the lights down and staring out the sky-light directly above your bed for what seemed like eternity.

"Did I lock the front door...?"

"Well, I'm not getting up to take a leak now...I'll just have to wait until the morning..."

"Kubs, are you told old to inflict bodily harm upon a night stalker?"

"I hope I don't die wearing these ridiculous pajama bottoms."

"Are the squatter punks in my neighborhood really some kind of weird leather cult?"

As I lay there in bed, clutching my old dusty pit bull like a pistol grip, I wondered how I would survive until the morning. This was by far the dumbest thing I've done. Dumber than reading the Exorcist at my cabin. Alone.