Tag Archives: insomnia

The Sandman and His Fickle Affections

Sleep is a mercurial lover who visits at his leisure. He seduces me in the dark of my empty bedroom. He plucks at my guitar body with calloused fingers, and plays me till he tires. The light comes in, and he’s gone. I’m worn, and out of tune with the sun and the moon.

The sloshy light of Baltimore plods out of the darkness. No sunshine again today, just a milky sky, and a clouded state of mind. Naturally, I’m battling a virus that has admirable tenacity. But: Mind. Body. Soul. I have to believe the three will all coalesce, eventually. I will not break. I cannot unravel when the future rides on my strength.

Ecstasy and sleep-deprivation apparently go hand in hand. While I am ecstatic to move to San Diego in a few short weeks, I also feel like I’m free-falling in delirium off of some great precipice. The kind of rapture I’m after doesn’t come by staying still or asleep. It comes by lunging off a California cliff, and praying the parachute deploys. I hope my definition of “ecstasy” changes as I transition into my new life in San Diego.

Since breaking up with my ex, the skeletal structure that gave form to my life disintegrated. The ribcage of our relationship snapped as he tried to resuscitate a passion that died years ago. He’s still there, hunkered over those bones, plunging the cracked sternum into the dirt. Suffice it to say, up until now I’ve kept little conscience in my life. Thus, the importance of sticking to a writing schedule, and an exercise regimen was never of greater consequence lest even those cardboard walls falter. 

What then? What is “letting go?” I’m learning. I’m falling in love even… But, more on that to come.

Last night i didn’t get back from the Route 40 laundromat until 1:30 AM. Who cares, though? Nobody. It’s beautiful. I drifted through the mostly empty Sudsville aisles, making eye contact with the occasional squint-eyed man in corner chairs. When it’s 1 AM at the laundromat, there’s a peculiar exchange that takes place between two souls. You share an implicit understanding, a hope, that life won’t always be this way.