December 20th, 2006


Hypothermic Nights

So I find myself stuck with the world and all its chirping birds and its opalescent cloudy once again sky and its weblogs, and me awake at noon (following a mere four hours sleep) not knowing what's going on. There's a nagging almost memory in my head that I was dreaming I lived in a perfect house where I never stubbed my toes on a piece of furniture one too many for the space or spent too much time cleaning because this house was exactly the right size in all its parts. But once fully awake I remembered that such houses don't exist in the real world. Here there's always something that never quite fits, and there are always odd corners for which one can find no purpose.

So I kick around the yard for a while, cold, thinking about getting rid of the tiny handful of leaves remaining on the ground and deciding against it as they are now sufficiently rare to be valuable for their decorative quality. Every once in a while the sun almost comes out, and every once in a while I get the feeling that my brain might work, but neither event is ever fully realized. Everything remains on the verge, except the night. The moonless night arrives decisively and fills most of the worlds cold and empty corners with darkness. I have the feeling that the too little sleep is about to step from a shadow, spin me around and smack me hard. Unless I stay indoors where I've got furniture (however unfortunately placed) on which to collapse I could soon be down on the cold, damp grass, trying to get back to that dream.