I haven’t made time to even think about what I would write if I had the leftover energy and attention after everything to really do it. It’s been an exhausting last week, through the weekend, and into this week — the entire span of days has been pretty hectic. Even now that I’m doing it, I’m barely maintaining the concentration to finish one sentence and begin the next. But, I guess it’s not like my body and mind hasn’t been coping with sleep issues for ever. So, it’s whatever.
I just got off work. I have to be back in 8 hours. I’m tired but restless enough to be writing about it. There’s a little pink pill that I probably should take… but that I hate taking so much that I don’t do it, put it off, and sometimes take it a bit too late to not be a groggy mess trying to come out of it and wake up.
It’s just a Benadryl. For desperate need of sleep and allergy relief, I sometimes have to take that awful pink fucker. But I definitely avoid it if I can, even if I need to get the best rest I can get in the shortest amount of time, and I know it’s the best way I have available. It just feels too gross to want to will myself to swallow the thing, and I endure instead being awake.
Speaking of that, let’s not forget my alarm clock needs to be set — now. And there; it has informed me that this is in fact more like seven hours and eight minutes. It’s always good to know the damage.
See… I could possibly lie here in bed all night restful in the body and relatively motionless but still barely awake but for a possible time of unconsciousness that might have been an hour or more maybe? Who can be sure. And if you’re familiar with managing that problem. you know what I mean.
But I don’t despair on the matter. It can be difficult to not get enough sleep sometimes and then have to function somehow while you’re half dead and falling asleep finally on your feet. Every moment of downtime is magnetically held to the bed or wherever else is more convenient. I’m actually, as I said, fairly mentally and physically equipped to cope with sleep deprivation. And I really only have the problem for a while before I swing hard the opposite direction and eventually stabilize — and, of course, eventually remember the familiar feeling of the opposite extremes.
So we’re going to play a random song that just occurred to me. Aside from work and Dragon Ball Z and sleep, what I’ve been doing mostly is listening to music again and a lot of it has been 50’s rocksteady, 60’s ska, 2-tone, and the occasional punk band from my youth. And, I’ve been digesting large quantities of this music. Most of the early Jamaican stuff was very new to me. I obviously knew how ska had affected punk rockers and how it emerged in America, but I didn’t really know the roots of it — which is funny, because ska from 60’s is the roots of the roots if you’re referring to the type of reggae.
And… I really like it. There’s so many songs I want to talk about and post but I’m starting to lose my energy. I’m either going to take this pill…. or… I’m not going to. And I don’t have much left in me at the moment. But I never know what’s going to happen, really, as far as that goes. I deal with it without letting it get to me, too bad.
So instead of talking about any of that music, I’m just going to put on the B side to the 1997 album that started my obsession with said band from like 2001-2005, if not longer, because the title describes me rather well.
A manic depressive named Laughing Boy by Modest Mouse.
And oh, how I can still jam this shit hard. It’s been a long time. I’ll see you guys if you come back. I’m just not used to doing this anymore.