Sleepless

Seven hours of tossing and turning and trying to sleep without even a modicum of success is a bit much, I think. Especially when on the tail of not sleeping well the previous night, or the night before that. Any more of this and we're going to have to start drugging, brain, and we don't want that, do we? DO we?

I'd be better able to accept it if I were actually doing things for these hours. My own fault, then, my own choice to stay up until five writing, drawing, reading, or talking to any of the assorted criminal element that have taken to chattering at me from their secret lairs in Ireland or England or Seattle or Hackensack, New Jersey. (How come THEY don't need to sleep? Is it because crime never does?) But I'm not, I'm not doing these things, I am staring at the inside of my eyelids asking whatever passing god might be taking an interest at any given point to allow me to drift off to sleep because for-mercy's-sake my alarm will be going off in four hours, three hours, two hours twenty minutes, one hour thirty-five minutes ten five god-dammit.

I'm just saying it's beginning to have an effect on my day-to-day performance, brain. I've gone all tired and sullen and I have taken to staring off into space and falling asleep whilst trying to get my phone to work. And we're coming up on the home stretch, which yes, I know, is why you're whirling around so hard, but it is more important than ever that you stop with this no-sleep-for-youuuu game. I understand that I've been asking a lot of you lately, and I understand that you're under a lot of pressure, but we here at Susie Industries demand the best of our people, or at least a bit of cooperation in certain matters. Like 3 AM. I don't like 3 AM, brain. We don't get on. We got into a fight once and we've never managed to see eye-to-eye again. It would really be better for all if you could arrange that 3 AM and I are never conscious of one another, to avoid awkwardness.

I'm rambling. DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU ARE DOING HERE, BRAIN.