Sunday, September 08, 2013


My eyes snap open, so sudden and unexpected that I call out to see why she woke me. Then I remember I live by myself. The clock reads 1:08 a.m. Time to walk.

There is no fog tonight but plenty of voices in the air and in my head. I can hear the echoes of the workday, the too-bright conversations about things that seem Very Important when we're in the middle of the madness — keeping the talent on-time, staying in contact via IFB. Right now they feel as slight as a Krewella track — lots of bombast, very little depth or resonance.

"It's a good thing I don't have a life," I joked to someone at work the other day, and it would be funny ha-ha if it wasn't so funny strange and true. I'm just coming off a 20-hour workday bookended with only a couple hours of sleep. This can't be healthy. The no-life part of my little joke makes me realize it doesn't matter if this pace is crushing me. My social calendar is as empty as the streets I walk. I'm a tough sumbitch anyway; it will take more than a few long days at the Paragraph Factory to knock me out.

"Fuck, yeah," I say out loud, startling a couple of people standing in an open garage. One of them palms the glass pipe. I'm half-tempted to ask if I can join in, but that life is history, something I used to know. Besides, it would only make the voices in my head a little louder. They're already at a Katy Perry roar. I don't need them to be any more insistent.

"I used to sleep at night," I tell the stars. Like a fucking baby, I did, and I didn't need a needle to make it happen. Hokey it may sound, but there is truth in the notion that love conquers all, including insomnia and addiction. The conqueror may be gone but so is the addict — life in balance. A little night restlessness is a small price to pay for cleanliness. I keep walking.

I don't know why I'm awake and I don't where I'm going but I can't seem to stop. I keep telling myself the exercise will do me some good and keep me from getting fat — yes, I have major issues with that one — and it prevents me from thinking too much about the four walls.

Before I know it I have walked three-and-a-half miles and it's close to 3 a.m. I climb the stairs to my apartment, certain I will be asleep before I can reach my pillow. I spend the next three hours looking out the window, waiting for the sun to rise. When it does I close my eyes and wake up in dreamland.

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