Damn insomnia

No matter the state of my affairs, be it sheer exhaustion or drunken happiness or indescribable ennui, it seems that sleep eludes.

Ten years ago it had been most prob’ly from those dvd marathons we’ve had, watching Six Feet Under and Sopranos…not stopping until those damn Dao chickens made a ruckus to announce that morning was coming. Then five years ago, ’twas just from wondering where to get our next big break but really more from fear if we’ve enough to last us another week. And now…I guess it’s much simpler than that: I am old, and sleep is just harder to come by. I told Sam the other day, “I don’t like sleeping,” and there’s truth to that. I think sleep is sometimes a waste of time; I could do so much more. But I cannot fool this body I guess, because no matter how I try, it also just wants to rest and melt on my bed, with not a care in the world, and I’ve no choice but to succumb to it.

I’ve to tell ya, I try, really. I do. For instance, I’ve tried meditating, listening to this angelic hypnotic relaxing feminine voice who’s probably done THE longest stretch of a lesson on how one must properly breathe. Boring as a white washed wall, but still…my mind wandered to this and that and not halfway through it, I was maddeningly removing the damn earphones off of me, because oh god I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried watching movies, reading, whathaveyou, but I know myself well, and always end up asking out loud, “who are you kidding today, D, you still have until 5am to think this through, so chop chop don’t give up.” Yeah, a lot of crazy shiz goes on when yer going out of yer mind.

But hey don’t get me wrong, because there’s one particular moment when I do love it…this getting into sleeping thing, and it’s this: it’s that in-between time at wakedness and sleepness. When my eyes are closed and oh yeah I’m kinda sorta celebrating inside because hurrah I feel sleep’s coming. When my mind is forcing me to open my eyes one more time to check the time perhaps but my eyes say fuck you no way. When my body molds itself ever so subtly onto my bed and it relaxes…and gives way. When I will my fingers to uncurl a li’l bit more and I will my toes to unfreeze a li’l bit more. When I think, I don’t wanna move and no I don’t wanna think. That’s when sleep becomes real, and no longer a dream.

I crave that sensation every night. As I do now. 2:02, my clock says. I guess I’m down with Activity #1 tonight. Now, onto the next, yes?

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Pictured: Throw from Pottery Barn, gifted by C