It was 0230 and something had woken me. Like a hypnic jerk, I was shaken bodily from sweet oblivion, rising to the surface like a bucket from a well. It wasn't thrashing rain against my window or someone clattering past my door on the way to the bathroom, it was a paragraph of words hurling… Continue reading Sleep-writing
My new clock is staring at me, its 'silent sweep' second hand gesturing sarcastically like an impatient companion tapping their wrist. It's 0133. Without stopping at each individual notch on its circuit, the seconds seem to pass faster than on an ordinary ticking clock. It is sitting there, passive aggressively waiting for me to give… Continue reading Silent Sweep
Going back to that Bob Dylan quote from yesterday... I change throughout the course of a day. I wake and I’m one person, and when I go to sleep I know for certain I’m somebody else.” ...I think I'm learning that the writer version of my many forms is nocturnal. I seem to get my… Continue reading I contain multitudes, Vol.2
If only it were as easy to follow through in the morning as it is to commit to grand plans late at night. This is classic small-hours rumination from yours truly. Lying on my back, staring into the black space where the ceiling should be and waiting for the melatonin to kick in, I'll idly… Continue reading I contain multitudes.