Insomnia

Here I am, at 4 30 in the morning, unable to sleep and with the access to a laptop while sitting in an a/c room. Things could be worse, and they possibly will be; but not during the time it takes me to post this blog. There's a weird conversation going on in the room about gay porn and prostitution, but if you're suitably buzzed, sleep deprived and generally insomniac, then it doesn't matter. In fact you wish that the moment would last forever and the act of typing the letters of a keyboard go on and on and on without stop.
It reminds me of my sole acid experience to date. That night went on forever and yet seemed to get over too soon...so when the first birds began chirping, we retired to the room and shut all the doors and windows and lit a candle. Then we put on the Buena Vista Social Club and just forgot ourselves.
You feel like this sometimes. Just before dawn, a strange lethargy comes over you. As you stand at a balcony and look out on a wide expanse of greenery, you wish that a bush might give birth to a shadowy woman wrapped in white...who's eyes you can't see, but who's presence fills you with dread. In such times you wish that your life was worth more than what it was and that the wonder of experience would never remove its hands from your brows. Its much more than a fear to get tied down.
So when I see friends write that they are male/female and 'committed' I smile to myself and ask, "to what?" Are they lunatics awaiting incarceration, or are the unconciously sighing for the feel of rain on their faces as they walk down a deserted valley in the hills somewhere, looking for a valley of flowers to emerge from the mist? Are they 'committed' because its a word that makes them feel adult or because they are awaiting that final act of abandonment, of giving their bodies up to the wind and flying with the stars? The stars in the infinite night that they had always wished to count, but didn't know where to begin?
Maybe I'm just sleepy, maybe. Maybe.

'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep :
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep !
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,

And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,

May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,

Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth !
With light heart may she rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice ;

To her may all things live, from the pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of her living soul !

O simple spirit, guided from above,

Dear Lady ! friend devoutest of my choice,
Thus may'st thou ever, evermore rejoice.

- S T Coleridge (poet, liar)