insomnia is a bi-product of mania. but let's not talk about that right now, we can't. insomnia is the type of thing that when you're a healthy sleeper/liver you think "good god, how does a human not sleep? it's madness". while you're thinking that it creeps up on you and takes hold. i remember in college a girl friend of mine and i were sittin' around cataloging people, giving them i.d. claims as if they had order forms. and when we rolled around to the artists in my school the girl said "those fuckin artists man, they walk around with their hair dirty and their everything stained letting us know they haven't slept or eaten in months and they don't care because they're making some kind of difference". she was one of those art majors. but she slept soundly in the room next to me every night and i think she was angry about this. i slept too then.

i think about it now, my insomnia, my absolute hatred for eating, and i wonder if there is purpose. i don't mean to constantly create but it somehow winds up happening. it's 3:30am right now. i've had about 9 hours sleep this week. you get used to it, you don't have a choice. everyone asks what i'm nervous about- i wish i could say. it's more that your body can't give in to the idea of putting down the book for eight hours. where's the point in that, it thinks. how can i stop reading, stop learning, stop writing, even for a minute?, i tell people. they say i need rest. only, the less i sleep the better my ideas become. like all these years sleep has been closing off portions of my brain and in the madness of being awake i am able to unlock them.

i couldn't be more of a mess if i tried.

2003-07-14, 3:21 a.m.
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