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3 July 2008 / April

Wakefulness

Fireflies kept me awake last night.  Fireflies and LEDs.

Reading Denis Johnson’s Tree of Smoke right before turning out the lights at midnight did not help either, what with its scenes disturbing in so many ways.  My lips were so uncomfortably dry I simply had to get up to apply chapstick.  I sweated and shivered at the same time.  I heard my mom getting up, puttering around the kitchen, scrubbing the bathroom.  Was it already morning?  Had I slept and not noticed?  I checked my watch.  2 AM.

Two hours lying in the dark is a lot of time for thinking.  I thought about school, and recitals, and Facebook.  I thought about California, for no particular reason.  I thought about photos and parabolas.  I thought about the millenium.

I must have fallen asleep sometime, because at 10:11, I woke up and it was another day.

I always remember the time in Scotland, when I was in second grade, that the night passed quite literally in the blink of an eye.  I was lying curled up on my side, staring at the wall.  My squarish stuffed sheep was upside down and leaning against the wall.

What it felt like was a very slow blink, but that was it, that was a full night of slumber.  I closed my eyes and everything was dark and blue; I opened my eyes and everything was light and yellow.  I hadn’t moved the rest of my body.  The sheep was in the exact same position.  It was a very strange sensation.

That was also the trip when I watched the Teletubbies during a solar eclipse, bought my first watch, and took a Swiss Army knife onto the plane.  Do you remember when that was still possible?

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