Nothing like a beautiful but somewhat confusing meditation on one's favorite Issues -- death, families, what a dinosaur Cain & Abel would look like -- on a Sunday night on top of way too little sleep to bring on the black dog. (Unfair, b/c I like dogs, but if it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me.) Pounding a green papaya salad to mix it helps; so do chiles in large enough amounts to get the endorphins flowing. ("Step away from the ledge." "No." "Sabzi mirch? Scotch bonnets?" "Oh. OK then.")
But no cure yet for waking up bright-eyed & bushy-tailed some four hours after falling asleep. No book is boring enough. Presently all of one's sorrows, fears, past screw-ups & their likely successors come calling, or the (slightly senile) poodle gets up & starts to roam the living room, or someone has forgotten his CPAP hookup & begins snoring loudly enough to knock pictures off the walls.
Night workers have sleep fantasies the way day shift people have (so I'm told) sex fantasies. In Penthouse Sleep Forum, the corner of the library, desert island or hotel room hasn't got another occupant, & size really doesn't matter, though distance & decibels do.
No comments:
Post a Comment