Riding the Slipstream

I didn't get much sleep last night (yawn). My eyes hurt as if they had been blasted with coarse grit and then rubbed down with sandpaper. I am not sure that I qualify to be called a chronic insomniac, but I do sleep badly and that is a major downer. My mother would say,” You are not sleeping well because you are haunted by your unforgiven sins.” Jirre ma, I don’t know if that is true, because if it were… Thabo and his entire Cabinet must not have had a good night’s sleep since the late nineties. Why… Bush would practically walk in his sleep! It is amazing how time, something we normally never have enough of, can come to a complete halt between 1am and 5am. All time fuse into one long, never-ending, clock-stopping hour in the early hours of the morning. 1am to 5am is also the time the brain becomes fully capable of re-enacting entire conversations you have had with dull people during the day, when it is able to relive an entire television program, can go completely ballistic about the hot girl at the office, will painstakingly, and in detail, draft a complete business plan and can compose an hour long speech and put together eulogies for every person who has ever died… on the entire face of the planet! I am the literary fuckin' genius of the early morning hours. To hell with the ergonomically designed pillow, the glass of warm milk or herbal tea, the lengthy books and novels, counting sheep or beautiful maidens skipping along a winding country road… insomnia has its own evil master plan. And for reasons unknown, you are the center piece to this dastardly plan. I wish it was possible for one to make good use of this much maligned and wasted time slot. But how much illicit fun can one person truly have by them self… and how much mischief anyone can get up to when the rest of the world (not quite!) is sound asleep? There is nothing to do really, but dribble the hours away, roll from side to side and potter around the dark house. Ever noticed how eerily friggin quiet are houses at 3am in the morning? And when sleep finally arrives… it is usually around 30 minutes before the alarm clock goes off. It is strange how and alarm clock can be both friend and foe depending on the circumstances. My brother, on the other hand, can fall asleep in the blink of an eye… I kid you not. The one moment he is talking to you and the next… poof... he is gone… in lah-lah land or the land of erotic fantasies or whatever he calls it. He does not even half to put his head on a pillow nor does he need a bed for that matter. And by my last count he is far more sinful than I could ever hope to be… I envy him. He and others like him should die a slow and painful death... God knows, I have composed eulogies for each and every one them. It would be a real shame to let them go to waste.