To sleep perchance to dream…

Some hack.

Who needs sleep? Apparently I don’t. I have slept roughly 4 hours in the last four months and my body is starting to improvise around its own brutal deprivations. I think my mind is starting to eat parts of the skull that surround my head. I swear some parts of my head push downward a bit too softly. Pushing too hard causes my limbs to jerk around sporadically while I suddenly have a complete, nearly immaculate understanding of Latin.

And my tummy, my stomach, my digestion system is starting to get used to the idea that I will be rolling around a bed for eight hours a night and catching roughly 30 seconds of ZZZZ’s. Sure, it could use food energy to stay alive during that time. But who needs shitty pizza or a single piece of broccoli when so much yummy fat (and internal organs) are around? I swear to something something (something) that I digested my spleen the other day.

Tasted like chicken.

Buck buck buck.

By this point, I’m sure that some of you are thinking I may be “faking” a little bit of goofiness and I can cop to that. But not a WHOLE lot of goofiness. This stuff is Kerouacing its way out of my head and ot my hands as fast as I can type it though I will stop to correct spelling and grammar, to a degree.

The only thing I’m really faking is the fact that I’m so oh so very tired. I am tired yes. I haven’t slept much lately and I slept like shit last night particularly. I had an interview with a very nice guy who told me all about his old hockey players. He and his wife were nice people and these thoughts ran through my head (not these exact thoughts but of this ilk) as I sat and talked to them. A little guilt struck me but honestly I can’t pretend to be so tortured any more.

See, now this is what I mean by the title of this blog. These ramblings have all the structure and forethought of a popcorn fart but I’d like to think there is a lilt of my eternal optimism to each. For example, I do believe that somebody besides me will read this blog regularly. I do enjoy reading back over my past posts perhaps more than I am willing to admit.

I got smarm, smiles and miles, so much smarm it’s wasted.

Right now I’m still listening to the Smashing Pumpkins but I’m later going to turn to Moondog. He’s rather oblique music suits my mood perfect. either that or John Fahey. Don’t worry, precious readers, Youtube links shall be posted momentarily. Fahey is my favorite acoustic guitarist. Moondog is my favorite blind street musician who built his own instruments.

Hopefully those rather eccentric fellows (that was one of Fahey’s more straightforward pieces) helped brighten up your day a bit. Those who follow an odd path and yet create an audience of adoring fans are perhaps the finest artists in the world. Especially if they can make you feel, make you bleed, make you stare at your hands and wonder why you never did anything with them that even approaches meaningful.

Then again maybe you don’t.

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