Insomnia, continued, again, Wedge it on through Sunday Night

I saw a terrible sign today. I saw a terrible sign today, and I can’t forget about it and nothing about this room or the darkness or the hideous threat of tomorrow morning helps. I stood looking at my bed for a solid ten minutes, after having lost myself in various distractions, old books, music, cards, computer board games, wine, and (after some more) I pretended I didn’t need to sleep - like I was some sort of superhuman - sleep was the strangest thing one could possibly imagine, Greek Gods contemplating the mortality of their lovers and brief enemies and the children that come between, or like it was some fucked-up cultural thing like people who eat dog. An interesting anecdote, something to quip about in mass emails or parties when there’s nothing else to say. I moved about yet again (distraction here, distraction there, but always conscious of the intent, so no actual distraction achieved) and pretended I didn’t need to sleep. I came up with sentences, fragments (maybe once I would have called them “poetry”) and one sentence leads to another, and another to a jumble. It’s all vanity, but at least I don’t write them down anymore. What a mess even now, what the bloody hell... a mess of tenses, but that’s the way the thinking goes to keep away from the bed, that’s been established.