imagine ways

A friend — my oldest friend on Earth — just asked me if I sleep well ever. A couple weeks ago I stayed a couple nights at Superstar Brown’s crib. Gobbled a few monster pot cookies then slept for 40 or 50 hours straight.

Since then I haven’t slept so great. Last week I was awake from Monday until Saturday night. I have a chair I can sleep in at my buddy KC’s place any time I like. But it’s a small place — one room — and though it’s one Champ of a chair for a sit or a nap or to cold pass out in it’s not so conducive for curl-up rejuvenator sleep.

Lots of nights it’s easier just to stay up.

Besides the night-time is my own. Even if I do sleep the days are tough. It’s hard to talk to people. Maybe folks think because I don’t work at a job, like them, it’s somehow easier for me? Because really we’re Up To near the damn same thing — surviving the fucking day. And PTSD happens to be damned honest work. 30-odd hour motor-overtime days. Always on call. Hunger pangs. No pay.

I’ve been awake two nights. A few hours ago I maybe could’ve slept. But I need to go to the post office between 9AM & noon. By the time 9 rolls around — a half hour ago — it’s full-blown today. So I’m up. I like this time of morning anyway. Quiet…

It is hard to write after 2 sleepless nights. Can’t count on myself the same ways. And the bounce-back period is roughly equal to the time I spent awake. A look at the calandar in my sidebar will give a good idea of my sleepless/recover cycle.

It’s been 2 years since I’ve had a home of my own. I hurt for it.

Oh well. I got a fresh pack of smokes. Cup of coffee compliments of KC. Free wireless floats by from the Bar across the street. And — most crucially — I have the lap-top computer my Mom bought me.

Oh bless the woman’s dear soul! My motherfukin Mom so unassailably rules. Mom I can’t let you read this — and I think you know deep down you don’t want to — but I say!

Now & forever Thank You.

Plus I am one fantastically wishful thinker with a potent sense of make-believe. Best thing about Mike E! I imagine ways…

Hey — I busted some chuckle-rips in my two previous posts — at the expense of the Office of National Drug Control Policy! Know what? Fuck it. My heart feels good today.

Works when I’m proud for it & long odds pay out sweet.


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September 2006
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