Have you ever had one of those nights where you just couldn't sleep at all? A night where you just sit there, lie there, wait there, hope there, but can't find the darkness to slip inside of no matter how much you know you need it?
Last night had no grand designs. No big strategies. Just cook a big meal, veg out, maybe watch some hoops or grade some papers or whatever - but more than anything I just wanted to catch some rest and relax. The mind will wander (as it always does) but otherwise it's just hanging out in your own sanctuary, listening to the cars race by outside, and the train whistles off in the distance. The television plays, but it's not really seen or accepted. More like a flashing light that keeps the air company.
There's a sleeping cat. A phonecall. A message in the dark. Possibilities as lightning bugs, floating around luminescent and then skittering away. A moments magic enjoyed for what you see in it, but not felt as a loss when it goes. There's chips and salsa. There's Harrison Ford not quite cutting a Russian accent, there's Maurice Chevalier and Frank Sinatra making fun of bumbling Nazi's in one of those old WWII-POW-camps-are-comedy-goldmines films. Somebody's playing old episodes of Alien Nation at three in the morning. (oh man, I used to love that show!) And wait -- here's an old rerun of Saturday Night Live with Mel Gibson, John Lovitz, and ...Living Colour?!
So many things on my mind. Diversions, redirections, old truths and new. Feelings familiar and yet unsure. Places traveled and yet unknown. People are angry. People are sad. Wondering if I've missed something. Wondering if there was anything there to miss, or if I'm missed at all. The thoughts float above, sift, and then sink. They come and they go. They light and then darken. Guilt or innocence. Freedom or weightlessness. It's everything I wish to understand, and yet far too much for me to handle on my own right here at this moment.
So instead I watch Lucky dance for Pozzo. I discuss the Bishop Berkely. I watch the documentary about Guadacanal, the movie about the submarine, and the comedy skit about Rain Man making baseball picks for Pete Rose. By waiting for something, Dear Estragon -- I find myself able to avoid the weight of nothing
Last night had no grand designs. No big strategies. Just cook a big meal, veg out, maybe watch some hoops or grade some papers or whatever - but more than anything I just wanted to catch some rest and relax. The mind will wander (as it always does) but otherwise it's just hanging out in your own sanctuary, listening to the cars race by outside, and the train whistles off in the distance. The television plays, but it's not really seen or accepted. More like a flashing light that keeps the air company.
There's a sleeping cat. A phonecall. A message in the dark. Possibilities as lightning bugs, floating around luminescent and then skittering away. A moments magic enjoyed for what you see in it, but not felt as a loss when it goes. There's chips and salsa. There's Harrison Ford not quite cutting a Russian accent, there's Maurice Chevalier and Frank Sinatra making fun of bumbling Nazi's in one of those old WWII-POW-camps-are-comedy-goldmines films. Somebody's playing old episodes of Alien Nation at three in the morning. (oh man, I used to love that show!) And wait -- here's an old rerun of Saturday Night Live with Mel Gibson, John Lovitz, and ...Living Colour?!
So many things on my mind. Diversions, redirections, old truths and new. Feelings familiar and yet unsure. Places traveled and yet unknown. People are angry. People are sad. Wondering if I've missed something. Wondering if there was anything there to miss, or if I'm missed at all. The thoughts float above, sift, and then sink. They come and they go. They light and then darken. Guilt or innocence. Freedom or weightlessness. It's everything I wish to understand, and yet far too much for me to handle on my own right here at this moment.
So instead I watch Lucky dance for Pozzo. I discuss the Bishop Berkely. I watch the documentary about Guadacanal, the movie about the submarine, and the comedy skit about Rain Man making baseball picks for Pete Rose. By waiting for something, Dear Estragon -- I find myself able to avoid the weight of nothing
At least until the alarm goes off
[Listening to: The Faces, "Stay With Me"]
Comments