The Mind of Less Sleep

Today is a tired day.

Tired days are what happen when I get two to three hours of sleep the night previous, not to be confused with grumpy days, which normally consist of four to six hours of sleep. I can’t really remember a time in my life when I didn’t have trouble sleeping. It is a state of being I have become very familiar with, but I find myself unable to really settle into this particular state of mind in a comfortable way. Sometimes it works. More often than not I become more exhausted thinking about how to combat it.

I will not nap. I will continue the good fight until at least 8:00 p.m., mark my words.

I had a thing to talk about…It should come back to me eventually.

I wonder if I would have enjoyed field trips more, had I forgotten my lunch less often. I usually went completely hungry. Rarely, a child of similar size and composition would offer up some part of a sandwich, or a cracker with questionable meat from their Lunchables box. This blog is not sponsored by Lunchables, however this does not mean I am by any means against the idea.

I wonder if I would like visiting museums today if I had remembered those grocery bags of forgotten foodstuffs. I wonder how much happier I would have been if I had eaten more. Also if I had slept more.

I distinctly remember how great it felt, waking up after having my own marijuana. I had slept the whole night through, and woke up feeling good. Actually good. Like I wouldn’t walk along the too-bright hallways of high school, fatigued more and more with each new footstep.

So maybe this led to some abuse of the substance. Never you mind. I was young, and realized how good it felt to be one who could sleep at regular times. You shouldn’t judge teenagers. Unless they’re huge assholes. Then you’re fine, judge away, have my spare gavel. We’ll make a day of it!

What was the thing…

I was really excited to write about it, too. Curse this addled mind!

If carrots grew on trees, they would look really stupid. That would be one ugly tree. I mean, it would have some orange going for it, so I guess points for originality. But the droop! It would be simply unbecoming. No one loves you, carrot tree. Not even rabbits. You are but a tantalizing treat, never to be experienced by the grounded creatures.

Maybe the rabbits could make a deal with the squirrels. Doesn’t seem likely though, even in this alternate universe. Squirrels are just not nice fellows. The rabbits would need to have something very valuable on their hands to convince a squirrel to do anything beyond climb up a tree and be a little shit.

In my lifetime, I have written one song, one rap, and many poems. I think the poet often desires to sing. I can usually tell when a band or singer has a spot of poetry within their composition. It makes for the most lovely lyrics. Mary Lambert and The Freelance Whales try their best to bring me to tears. I’ll never say whether or not they have ever succeeded.

Unless you help me remember the thing.

The song was romantic and cute, the rap absurdly silly. It only really made sense to me, probably. Quite a bit of self-references for someone largely unknown to the general population. At least it was fun.

I suppose I won’t remember it, yet. If I do, you will know. If I don’t, I’ll try to keep quiet about it. There aren’t many things in this world more infuriating than cliffhangers that never deliver.

I wish I had the financial security to have pizza delivered right now. That would really be something.

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