Of fuzzy lines and flaky biochemistry

This has been a particularly bad week for sleep. I am really starting to consider sleeping tablets. D is sleeping through* so it should be worth trying. It is its own kind of drug though. I would class insomnia as a hallucinogenic. No cool dancing 10cm pygmies or anything (those were fun) just the world in 800 x 600 pixels and an unfortunate habit of giggling at bright colours and an inability to remember words and structure a sentence. I feel like I could collapse like the plant when Yzma throws the poison on it.

It has also been a particularly hard week for love. A friend of mine has also had his heart handed to him in a very loving and thoughtfully wrapped basket. His basket was woven with 5 years of love, memories** and friendship whereas mine was just 4 months of everyday being ‘gotten’. I don’t know what to say to him. My words are like trying to kissy-better the eina when the eina is a cracked open sternum, splintered ribs and what used to be a heart but is now just a mess of crushed smooth muscle and coagulating blood. Kind of puts my oooh pick me pick me pining nicely in perspective.

I know what I have to do but I also know that I don’t want to just yet give up. It is much nicer to cling to this sliver of maybe love than face the truth that you don’t care. Even as I say that my eyes slide away from the words and my left shoulder pulls inwards in the classic avoidance brush. Pathetic.

1. Words of the day: bruschetta and meh

2. Insight of the day: Music sounds better when you are tired.

3. State of the pool: splooshy

4. Random thought: Is there such a job as “composer of alarm sounds”? If so I would really like to spend some time with the one that crafted the alarm I have to hear. I think that person will be very interesting in a peels-a-mouse-like-a-grape kind of way.

5. Awesomest line: Still on the literary blanky so here you go – Vast – Touched

*albeit in my bed only. He will wake up if he sleeps in his room or his cot. How he knows is beyond me. The boy sleeps through our house alarm going off and the claxons of hell probably sound like Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata in comparison to that incessant (ok 3 minutes) marrow penetrating wail.

**I don’t remember if I’ve told you this but I would love to believe that touch soaks through your cells so that you body somehow remembers the touch (yes it is all extremely flaky but bear with me). Therefore if you had been lovers with someone for years your body would be literally be impressed with that other person and forgetting them would take as long as it would for your cells to regenerate.

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This entry was posted on Friday, February 20th, 2009 at 2:35 pm and is filed under YGM. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.