Monday, February 15, 2010

The Price of Genius

I hate insomnia.

Ever try it? It's sucks. In fact it's probably the worst invention ever. I've taken some good strong steps in a new direction for me. And for a while it was almost as though I couldn't get enough sleep. Now, for whatever reason its almost like I've met me sleep quota for the month and my body refuses to take anymore. Not unlike a petulant 2 year old who has has three bites of broccoli and refuses to take another mouthful of anything, no matter how many loops that fucking "airplane" spoon does.

This used to happen to me all the time, back when I wrote blog posts like this. I remember sitting in the old apartment with the little Bubu running around my feet as I prattled on about whatever epicness I had experienced that week. I had a standing appointment with myself (awkward?) to record my thoughts and experiences for, well, myself firstly and foremost(ly?); and of course whomever else would listen. Somewhere between there and a month ago I lost myself somewhere. It was a though sombody bought superman a really nice scarf, that just so happened to be made out of 90% Kryptonite (and 10% polyester, that put that shit in everything) I couldn't make anything happen. And for two years a slogged through that.

And then my Bubu died.

That shook me. for those of you who don't know, Bubu is, was, my Netherland Dwarf rabbit. With the size of a tiny baby and the personality of an African American Disco Star who also happened to be a Ninja. He had so much personality in such a small package. and the terror, the panic, the grief and sorrow of his passing shook loose whatever it was that so unceremoniously picked me up and deposited me in a little row boat in the middle of a goddamn fog bank, and then spun me around saying, "get home, you left the oven on."

Stupid fucking rowboats.

I picked up his ashes three days ago. And I haven't slept well since.

I don't think they are directly connected, (well maybe) but the paradigm shift the whole ordeal has enacted certainly has a hand in it. Sleep feels like wasted time. My mind whirls as I lay there with Kasey sleep-chasing me around the bed. I have to get up and do things like this until I can finally slip back into sleep.

I can feel the old aura returning. In a way I suppose I am becoming Summer I: Allegro Non Molto again.

And while the sun is glorious when my strength waxes, what is the wonderful by product of summer?

Long days. Short nights.


1 comment:

  1. Rest in peace my sweet BooBoo ... and you as well Baby.