Nighttime kicks daytime's ass. It picks daytime up by the collar and throws him down a bar counter, shattering glass and spilling booze on all the drunken customers. Then it grabs a bottle and breaks it in half, and I drew this metaphor out too long.
I forced myself into bed tonight at eleven after a vicious round of mario kart with Amy, and woke up ten minutes later without an ounce of sleep on me. The past few nights have been particularly sleepless. After a while the minutes just start to pile up on the floor, and I have to stretch my legs. I recommend y'all step outside at 3:30 a.m., take a solitary walk around the block (just not everyone at once, see, that defeats the purpose) and tell me that nighttime doesn't kick daytime's ass.
It's a kind of quiet you never see anywhere else. When you only have yourself to talk to, the quiet comes in good colors and in bad ones too. Easy to scrutinize yourself. Hate to say it, but I've probably had more conversations with myself than I have with anyone else. Everyone in the world should have the chance to be an insomniac for a week, I think a few obnoxious things would be absent from the day.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Empty House
I think I've never wanted anything more in my life than to be genuinely, unabashedly in love. I think it ought to be the paramount priority in everyone's lives. There's quite a bit of shite involved with the enterprise, but there's not a person alive that could convince me that it's not worth it.
anyways, I'm skipping town for England next month to become a writer and an adult. I'll be dead in the heart of Zoobiedom with thirty-odd art majors and an english major here and there. I've made myself a promise to explore every inch of London that I can fit into four months, because I may not be going back for several decades.
Going back to London, for me, is kind of like going to visit a poetic uncle who has no reigns on his alcoholism. Sometimes he's fun, sometimes he's outlandish, sometimes in a drunken babble he lets slip something that makes you reconsider what direction you ought to be taking in life. London is indescribably awesome, and yet sometimes it can be a complete nightmare. I'm hoping to catch a little of both while I'm there, because without a bout of hard times, you couldn't recognize good times if they punched you in the mouth.
Everybody, find someone to love already, you insufferable time wasters.
anyways, I'm skipping town for England next month to become a writer and an adult. I'll be dead in the heart of Zoobiedom with thirty-odd art majors and an english major here and there. I've made myself a promise to explore every inch of London that I can fit into four months, because I may not be going back for several decades.
Going back to London, for me, is kind of like going to visit a poetic uncle who has no reigns on his alcoholism. Sometimes he's fun, sometimes he's outlandish, sometimes in a drunken babble he lets slip something that makes you reconsider what direction you ought to be taking in life. London is indescribably awesome, and yet sometimes it can be a complete nightmare. I'm hoping to catch a little of both while I'm there, because without a bout of hard times, you couldn't recognize good times if they punched you in the mouth.
Everybody, find someone to love already, you insufferable time wasters.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)