Tuesday, September 30, 2008

In The Night Kitchen


This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.

-Sylvia Plath

It is exactly 5 am right now. I am having troubles getting to sleep and so retreated to my laptop. I am sitting on the uncomfortable couch and the window is wide open. It just stopped raining outside and when the cars drive by they make that sticky, wet pavement sound. I love the rain. Today at work it was hell to go outside, it was more than just heat, it was heaviness. Everyone knew it would rain later, but then it was just heat and a sick brown sky. I am cold now, i’m hoping that freezing myself in the living room will make the warm bed more inviting and likely to lull me to sleep.

They say that the trick to getting to sleep when you have insomnia is to give up on sleep that night. Resolve yourself to just pull an all night-er. They tell you to get up, walk around, watch TV, make a snack, or whatever. Eventually you will get tired out and fall asleep. So that’s what i’m doing…..

I think it is weird that I have always considered myself a morning person. Philosophically mornings are much more inspiring to me than sunsets, but when I think of the rare times when I have had insomnia and not stressed out about it, I do quite well at night. I enjoy writing alone in the dark because I am a privacy whore. I HATE it when people look over my shoulder at my screen. It’s not like I am looking at porn or anything, it just makes me antsy. What better time to get on the laptop than in the dead of night all alone in the dark?

Another good thing about nighttime is that you can really hear the train from here at night. During the day it is buried under the sounds of the road I live on, but at night it’s as if the tracks were only a block away. I like to think about what the train is carrying, where it’s going, and all the places it’s been.

Another thing I like about the night is that even a messy house looks pretty by moonlight, and the features of my lover, which I know so well, get those mysterious shadows in the moon’s glow. It’s times like these where I hear music on the wind, in the sound of cars driving by, in the hum of a refrigerator. In the dead of night everything is holy. Nothing is mundane. Life is eons away.w

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