curbdrop out of grace

halo burger hangover

so I’m upnorth now, and one would have thought that I would want to sleep in after partying last nite (still went to bed by 2) but I just cannot sleep in.

(sidenote: I’m typing this in my Microsoft word as I don’t have readily available internet access. But I still have these thoughts I want to save… point being, it’s auto reformatting and capitalizing certain words. Damn you auto-reformat).

And anyway, I cannot sleep in well and I was on the lower bunk of this bed I’m not used to with someone on the top bunk and felt bad about stirring him through tossing and turning, which I am a big offender of. And so I’m up now, having a couple hours to kill before everyone else wakes.

And I was thinking about that girl who is an insomniac and more so thinking of my own experiences with that. I never had it so chronic to the point that it was a problem over a continuous line of months. It was a couple months, here and there, once in awhile. And it was never pure insomnia. Rather, it was more like what that guy in fight club dealt with where he’d suddenly awake and not remember how or when he had fallen asleep, only knowing/remembering it was a struggle to fall.

And so I just turned on some music to keep me company. Because this moment along with those thoughts are accomplices in generating a feeling that I recall experiencing during my stints of insomnia. These feelings are: feeling alone, feeling small, feeling trapped in a dead world.

Because as the world sleeps, and of course the entire world or even your neighborhood block is totally asleep… but in general, everyone is. And there are things to read and do, but that gets old. People always say that wish there were more hours in the day to do things. The thing is, there are but for the typical person, they are reserved for sleeping. Hey, give up sleep and you can do whatever you ever wanted. Really. That is, until your mind turns to mush and you take your own life.

There are things to do to pass the time, but time moves in slow motion. With no one really around to do things with and with a limited amount of things to really do in life, you start doing nothing and doing everything at the same time. It doesn’t really make sense unless you know what I mean. Even if you don’t suffer, you can experience by forcing yourself to stay up, oh say 60 straight hours. You might have to take caffeine to do this, which automatically means this isn’t a pure translation. But still it’d give you a good glimpse.

And the lighting, is all fucked up. Both natural light and false light. Natural light almost seems too bright. At that point in time, when faced with the sun shining and the world moving, you just want to go back inside your cave. Deep deep deep down. You just want to hide. I mean, you’ve just spent like 6-8 hours alone in a ghost world with no natural light and no human interactions. Just the lighting is scary.
And false light, like inside light from bulbs are just haunting. Their yellowish glow give you a true sense of how we’ve evolved. Because when you haven’t slept in a long long time, your mind almost craves the darkness, although you don’t just want to lay in the dark and try to sleep because you’ve done that for hours and that itself is a form of torture. So instead you try and stay awake occupying your time through the nite, through each nite, and you have this shite false light on that brings light, but lacks immediate warmth that a real fire would exponentially deliver the closer to the source. And you hate that light because you’re really lonely and feeling empty and you want to feed your body with comfort. And the ideal warmness of light would temporarily fill that emptiness.

(dl) long road, by pearl jam

and I am reminded by this all now as no one else is up and I’m upnorth with the shades pulled open in the kitchen, allowing me to see the stillness outside of a township that doesn’t have a winter population. There aren’t even animals roaming around.

“I have wished for so long. How I wish for you today.”

And at moments like this, one should remember there are always others who feel the drag of every 24 hour day. You’re not alone. Although you might not be able to shake that belief.

And it reminds me of Donnie Darko, with the phrase, “everybody dies alone” because you really feel like you are the universe. You are all there is in this drag in burnt out existence. And you feel alone. And you feel like dying.

I want to talk to that girl who cannot sleep and find out if she feels this way. I cannot imagine her tolerance. I wish these thoughts of mine were more orderly.

Oh, and I think this girl is a writer, which doesn’t surprise me. I think writers in general crave long bouts of loneliness that do things for them:

allow them uninterrupted (from human interaction/needs) free time
allow the development of craze to set into the mind, opening up a free-flow of thoughts uninhibited by consciouness
allow the time financially to write as most writers (and there are millions) cannot afford to live off their thoughts, and so they have day jobs and nite passions (?).
allow them this feeling that every artist exhale to some degree: suffering

that’s it for now.

posted by fillshe @ 9:54 AM