Sleep Writing

I am writing in a zombific, narcoleptic state, with no idea where this bit of composition is going. Probably nowhere.

And the day (that would be Monday/yesterday) started so well…

Yesterday, I actually got up and ran/slogged through the darkness. I surprised myself. After all, on Sunday, as I reported in yesterdayʼs post, I spent roughly eight hours doing nothing but work, hard work. As The Lovely One and I flopped into bed, we were both aching and exhausted (and then of course I didnʼt actually fall asleep for about an hour). I figured Monday, Monday would be a pass on the jog. But it wasnʼt. I woke somewhat before the alarms and actually got out of bed. I dressed for the canter through the dark, and even with some predawn craziness (like realizing my cell had drained its battery over the weekend and hooking it up to get charged in the dark and then realizing I hadnʼt poured out any tomato juice into the refrigerator pitcher for breakfast and doing that in the dark as well, and…) I was out and back before Janet arose. Yeah, it was a shorter run, somewhere between four and five miles. But still, it happened. It actually, genuinely occurred.

I wonder how today (i.e. Tuesday) is going on that front. Am I getting up and hastening through the starlight right now, as the post appears online? Or is today going to be the pass on that?

Chimpanzee = Magickal Monkey?

I had to work yesterday (and today). Yes sir (and madam), more money in the pocketbook! I wasnʼt feeling much thrill about being able to bring home some bucks, however (dreaming instead of malingering on my own at home supposedly composing deathless prose and transforming myself into a tall, chubby semblance of Picasso — my overly expensive sailor shirt arrived on Saturday). So it felt like a birthday to discover once I had started the first period that October 11 was an early dismissal day (teachers inservice beginning at 1:00). Suddenly I had an entire afternoon, more or less, to write and memorize lines. The rest of the periods didnʼt exactly fly by, but they went quickly at a half-hour apiece, and I even memorized another page of lines during the teacher preparation time. Then school was over with hours of time for myself ahead.

So now, as I am writing this, itʼs 5:00 PM (yesterday), and not much has been accomplished yet. Suddenly, once home and lunched on leftover pizza (from Friday night), major drowsiness overpowered me (couldnʼt have anything to do with that mere five hours of sleep I put in Sunday night). I checked e-mail with great lassitude and pondered far too closely and lengthily (and forgetfully) on my Facebook news feed. Finally, I determined (dazedly) that I had to actually do something and turned face first to the keyboard.

I tried writing about vacation (an important plan), but all I got down were four measly sentences. So I switched gears and started on yet another mindless ramble. And here I have hundreds of words already and, sorry for you who may be reading, no end in sight as yet. I almost feel alert as well. Now if I just had something to say…

If I keep this brief (still an option), I should go outdoors, haul out the step ladder and blow out the gutters again. Arriving home this afternoon, the front looked even more stuffed than it did Sunday evening. Janetʼs going to exercise via Zumba here in town, so sheʼll be home in a half hour. If I were to get at it as she takes off, the light will remain strong for almost an hour or maybe longer. I suppose I just planned my early evening.

Supperʼs leftover squash soup tonight, so no preparation there for me really (and The Lovely One can eat on her own once the calorie-consuming dance session is complete). That means as well that I could grab my Picasso script and get myself to halfway through on memorizing lines (eleven out of twenty-one pages, plus the famous ten questions James Lipton always used to conclude the From the Actors Studio interviews). On the iPod I played a recording of myself reading the lines over and over as I worked yesterday afternoon, so some of the stuff feels much more familiar as I work on the words. If only I didnʼt feel like taking an eight- or ten-hour nap.

Sigh. And thatʼs over 700 words. Two-thirds of a post is a post.

©2010 John Randolph Burrow, Magickal Monkey Enterprises, Ltd, S.A.

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