Went to a gathering in a public place for the first time in over a year.  Just a meeting, really. ‘Twas interesting.  “Twas also fucking hot.  Of course, there was whiskey, which made everything okay.
I think it’s time for adventures to be planned.

N.P.: “Now and Forever” – Gary Numan

Last night was amazing.  Got into bed, closed my eyes, went right to sleep, slept for 8.5 hours straight.  It was fucking beautiful.  So beautiful, in fact, that the thought occurred that rather than fight the insomnia, I can judo toss it, and alternate nights for sleeping.  So rather than take all sorts of sleep aids and try all the tricks we insomniacs have learned and still ultimately fail to get any real sleep, I won’t even try to sleep at all.  Just stay up all night writing and puttering, and then the following night, enjoy the uninterrupted sleep of the dead for a full night.  Et cetera.  Which is not as crazy as it might sound.  The problem is that if I were to attempt such a schedule, tonight would be a no-sleep night.  And while I am not nearly as exhausted as I was last night, I’m not so bursting with energy and wakefulness that staying up all night seems like any kind of good idea.  But the temptation is there….

N.P.: “I Am The Cool – Remastered” – Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

Didn’t sleep at all last night, dear reader.  It sucked.  About 0400, I knew that I was fucked.  My fuckedness was soon confirmed as light soon began to fill the shuttered window.  By the time I said, “fuck it” at 0700, I was laughing about it.
Back in Seattle, I used to stay up all night on purpose all the time.  Hayden and I would stay up all night, all the next day, and then around dinner time that second day, we’d each take a bunch of ambien and do art for as long as we could stay vertical.  Eventually, the sleep of the gods would come, and then, upon waking completely refreshed and reinvigorated, would come the surprise…due to ambien’s amnesiac qualities, you would have no recollection of the previous night’s art, and would find a fully recorded song or a brand new completed painting…it was like some kind of creative Christmas.
But last night wasn’t on purpose.  Last night was due to simple insomnia with a heaping helping of monkey mind which was probably in no way helped by the consumption of rather a lot of southern sweet tea about 30 minutes before I intended to go to bed.  Yes, I know, dear reader, it was a total rookie move.  But tea can be quite political sometimes, and sometimes, it behooves one to take tactical tea at otherwise inopportune times.  And yesterday was such a time.
Staying up all night has it’s positives: sleep deprivation and exhaustion tend to give one a tremendous amount of focus and clarity of purpose simply because one doesn’t have much brain power or energy to exert on anything but the Matter at Hand.  And time really does seem to fly when days are no longer separated by sleep.  The best part, however, is what I’m about to do, which is go to bed early and fall instantly into a coma-like state, where I will be held by the force of mortality until that stupid star rises in our skies once again.
And now, dear reader, if you’ll excuse me…I am going the fuck to bed.  Goodnight.

N.P.: “Up All Night” – The Boomtown Rats

Happy Mother’s Day, maternal reader.

N.P.: “Ball And Chain” – The Record Company

Greetings, dear reader.  It’s another blustery motherfucker in The Creek today.
I need to recalibrate my attitude about a certain project by Monday.
Gotta run.

N.P.: “Never Look Back” – Imelda May

Jesus…it’s tomorrow!  Sorry, dear reader…time got away from me today.  Just wanted to say hey.

N.P.: “Elevate My Mind” – Stereo MC’s

I have informally adopted a squirrel named Bath Salts.  Of course this would be news to Bath Salts the Squirrel….he doesn’t have a clue.  Bath Slats is insane.  He started hanging around the door of the Writing Shed a couple months ago, and ever since then, we’ve been getting increasingly comfortable with each other’s presences.  I have big plans for me and Bath Salts.  Eventually, I can see us hanging out together at the casino playing video poker and sipping whiskey and bitching about the general state of things.

N.P.: “Two Tone Cadillac” – T Bird and the Breaks

What the fuck is up, dear reader?  The last 48 have been insane…visits from ghosts, lap dances from the terminally ill, and a truly ludicrous amount of vice.  Temptation abounds, but I shall not be swayed.  Jesus said that.  Or maybe it was Elvis.  Either way, words to live by.
Speaking of words, the books are coming along.  But only after midnight, and only under duress.  Which is fine…I’ve been laboring under these ridiculous conditions for decades.

N.P.: “No Gods No Masters” – Garbage

I got a very nice compliment from a tweaker with copious neck and facial tattoos this afternoon.  Said tweaker was stumbling and mumbling darkly to himself as he passed in front of a business that I was exiting.  As I stepped out of the door, this guy looks up at me, says, “Oh shit,” and made a 90-degree turn and jogged to the other side of the street.
That’ll work.

N.P.: “Pimento” – Heavy Trash

Sober and bored and ridiculously busy today.  The books are progressing, but far too slowly for my taste.  Not only are there not enough hours in the day, there are not enough days in the week.

N.P.: “Long Cool Woman” – Vince Neil