I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Monday, August 16, 2004
1000x...
I have that condition where your legs get all antsy and achey when you're in bed. So, even when I'm tired sometimes, I can't sleep and I have to get up and move my legs around like a drunk Von Trapp, or sometimes I'll eat because there's nothing else to do. Then, right about when the sun starts to come up - then, the mad ant crawls in my legs subside and I can go to sleep, usually giving me about two hours before I have to get up for work.
My eyes are red and scratchy and I always look like a raccoon because I'm an insomniac. People have asked me before I was wearing makeup because of how dark the smudges around my eyes get. If they're a boy, I usually run and try to kiss them.
Anyway. I now encourage not sleeping. Anytime that I try to sleep and it's not happening? As a rule, I now have to go to the computer and start writing until the fidgeting or insomnia stops. That means no internet, no stupid blog things, no news. Only WORD.
And there you have it.
And now I have to go buy catfood and hairspray at Target.
And to look at the toys.
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