At least that's how many nights in a row it feels like.
Sleep has gotten hard.
When did sleeping get so hard? From where this restlessness?
And what new writing angle could I possibly spin on insomnia? I've done the Winter Version, the Summer Version sitting on the patio, the Wow, I just ate another box of cereal Version, and even the Wonder-if-married-people-can't-sleep-either-even-if-they-have-someone-to-spoon-with Version.
I guess this is the Hey, look over there, there's another full basket of unfolded laundry that perhaps I could be folding since I'm awake Version.
Or Hey, even the old standby The Art of Fugue doesn't soothe like it used to Version.
(It's been running for the last 45 minutes. I'm on Contrapunctus 13 of 14. Boo.)
I've never been one to say--as both my mother and many friends have--that God has a plan for everything. (In the words of Shug Avery in The Color Purple, "God is Trying to Tell you Something!") Or in secular terms, that there is a reason for everything. Endure the tough and pointless trials of your life. Learn something from them.
But as the morning creeps towards 3 yet again, I have to believe something is going on. That something radical, magical, un-effing believeable is meant for me to discover at 3:04 a.m. one morning and if I was able to sleep, it would go undiscovered by the world.
Anyone who has any thoughts as to what this un-effing believable revelation is going to be, please tell me. Soon. Preferably before I have to get up for work in a few hours.
1 comment:
A good friend of mine living in Florida summed up my feeling on the topic: "nothing good happens at 3 a.m." (That's usually when nightclub violence occurs.) Guess you're trying to cram too much living into your waking hours, and the body can't relax until then. Had the same problem in college, so dropped an activity or two. Worked
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