Not for the faint of art. |
You know, usually, when I don't have much to say here, I can rely on Bruce to give me guidance. I have all his songs queued up, and when I pick one at random it often says something to me, gives me inspiration... and the key to a blog entry. Today? Not so much. I didn't sleep well last night. It happens. Thoughts churn in my head and pressure builds up like someone's attached a bicycle pump to my cerebrum. I got up to do some writing - sometimes a freewriting core dump helps to clear the old RAM. What I wanted to do was play a video game, but I figured then when I finally got to bed at four AM, I'd dream about the video game, and that usually makes things worse. I resisted the temptation. So instead when I went to bed at four AM, I dreamed about work. Then I had to get up and GO to work, even though my limbic system was convinced I'd already been there all day. When I retire, will I dream about golf? I don't even play golf. My body wants to be awake at night, and all day, all it wants to do is sleep. I keep checking for fangs, but they never seem to appear. Ah. There's one: And I'm driving a stolen car On a pitch black night And I'm telling myself I'm gonna be alright But I ride by night and I travel in fear That in this darkness I will disappear -Bruce Springsteen, Stolen Car |