Feeling: wakeful
Listening to: my own voice, like a vain basset hound
Reading/Watching: naught

Okay, I have discovered that going to sleep after 4 a.m. usually gives me excessively odd dreams.

So naturally, I'm sitting here at 4:45 (when I really should be sleeping, like I told Miller I would be two hours ago, even though I stared at the ceiling for forty-five minutes before surrendering to insomnia and typing crap poetry on Word), trying to rhyme song lyrics and recording silly wavs on my computer. I just looked up the words to that Celtic hymn Lynne has gotten me hooked on (again), "Be Thou My Vision," and I'm recording verses of it and goofing with playing it at double speed, then backward, then with four layers of echo effect so I sound like a robot. A lilting Irish robot.

This is my Friday night.

And when I finally do sleep, it will once again be filled with odd things: last night I was shopping for coffee in the Japanese mountains, then brought the coffee home for Thanksgiving and looked down and realized I was standing there nude in front of family and friends with nothing but the little bag of Japanese coffee beans, and all along I'd been innocently telling stories of samurai and cherry trees in my birthday suit. (Yes, I saw The Last Samurai yesterday. And it was good.)

Plus, odd people are making cameos.

Boys that rarely feature into my conscious wanderings (never mind subconscious) are suddenly lifting my chin with one finger, bending to kiss me while singing the Chinese opera I studied for World Music two years ago, and like all dreams, the kiss never quite falls, and I just spend endless minutes on my tiptoes, futilely puckering as they wisp into smoke.

...and you wonder why I'm avoiding sleep.

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