Somehow, through the days
\nI don’t give in
\nI hide the tears
\nThat wait within
\nBut then through sleepless nights
\nI cry again
\n–F. and B. Bryant\/Sleepless Nights<\/p>\n
Words. <\/p>\n
I wonder about words. <\/p>\n
Specifically: I wonder if there is a certain number of words that you have to know in order to be up worrying about random mental masturbation type shit instead of actual problems like how to feed your family. <\/p>\n
Or if that is only related to having very few actual problems and too much free time?<\/p>\n
I recall that I read somewhere that poor people’s happiness increases up until a point at which their salary reaches about 75k and then remains stationary once their basic needs and a certain amount of luxury have been attained. Remind myself that I have no cause for complaint as I am at the ideal salary level for happiness. Remind myself that all that stuff about happiness has nothing to do with words. <\/p>\n
Except that I am so very sleepy…I would be very happy to be asleep. <\/p>\n
I’m also singing Mustang Sally inside my head, and wondering if I have a fever. Take my temperature. Oh. I do have a fever. This explains why I feel like I’m in a Pink Floyd song. <\/p>\n
Then there’s a bit of a tangent into truth. Or rather Truth. Is there any such thing? People can look at the exact same event and come away with such different stories, I suspect there is not. There may be a form of Truth that has very little to do with facts, but then we’re back to words and defining things.<\/p>\n
Then I get a mental image of words inside a head and wish I could draw it, but of course I’m limited by an inability to draw in general and a lack of a desire to haul out pen, ink and sketch pad at 0300. <\/p>\n
First there would be the empty head. <\/p>\n
Then words would fill it up. <\/p>\n
I’d have to be able to draw the words. <\/p>\n
What word would I put in first? Love. Love, of course. Beauty. Brain. Thought. Sleep. Shining. Forgiveness. Pain. Joy.<\/p>\n
Then I try to read. Not very successfully. <\/p>\n
Think how much I actually enjoy being up in the middle of the night if I don’t have to get up for work. <\/p>\n
Back to bed.
\nIt’s 0430.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"