Kee-rack!

Thanks to everyone for reading my earlier entry about forgetting what my ex-girlfriend used to look like. I appreciate your time and your words of encouragement.

I do my best writing at night. And I don't mean night as in "after dinner I sit down and open a vein". I mean night, as in "when I really should be asleep if I had half a brain in regards to what's good for me".

I find that falling asleep has been difficult for the last several months. I've always had problems falling asleep, and that has only gotten worse since August.

Much, much worse.

So it comes as no surprise that I spend a good deal of time at night watching the clock, tossing and turning, and I have these great monologues that go on in my head. Most of them are lost forever, I'm afraid, because instead of writing them down, I fret over them and, when sleep finally does come, I wake up with nothing more than a vague remembrance that I wanted to write something down, but I can never really be sure what. Usually I just end up having a strong but useless urge that it started with an "S".

Last night I didn't want to lose what I had in my head, so I sat bolt upright in order to write it down on my iBook. Only there was a complication. In my maneuver to sit up, I cracked my head against the corner of my desk. This inadvertent bouncing of my skull off of a sharp piece of laminated wood at roughly Mach 2 left a huge painful bump on my forehead.

I wrote the piece in about two hours, roughly proofread it for 45 minutes (you tend to make a lot of typographical and grammatical errors immediately after experiencing head trauma), and posted it. That flushed a lot of what I was feeling out of my system, and I was able to get to sleep.

Fortunately for everyone, I woke up the following afternoon. No coma! That means I didn't give myself a concussion of any appreciable severity. I still have a goose egg that hurts to touch, I've had headaches off and on all day, and I've got a nice divot taken out of my head where the corner took off skin.

Looking at the architecture of my furniture, I don't see how I could have comfortably put my head underneath my desk in the first place without bending my spine into the shape of the letter "C". It doesn't seem anatomically possible.

But Advil and aspirin wouldn't be necessary if I were just imagining it. I absolutely knocked myself silly last night trying to scramble to record my thoughts for posterity.

I suffer for my art.