All the Wrong Reasons

listening to Rolling Stones: Can't Always Get What You Want

We sit on a sofa our whole lives. Getting worked up over our soap opera girlfriends. The monologue is our vehicle of choice. We don't want to speak, but we'd rather us than anyone else. On the backs of napkins there are half thought phrases. Boxes litter this room, left from warranty deals or just moving your things. you came, you sat, you've never done much since. I think it's called a burn out, but it sure feels like I'm fading away. You don't sleep enough to stay in tense or in person, blackouts if you try to go somewhere. It becomes a prison that you have a key to. You grasp what you need to do, but there is so much of it that you don't sleep. You still wont do it though.

listening to The Clash: London Calling

I finally understand why I get so little sleep. knowledge of self is important, but I often can't understand how I feel or why I do things until I write them out. I would say the reason I get so little sleep is that, although I know it's important in order to function properly, there are so many things that I could be doing with my time that somehow in my mind I lessen its importance. Case in point is what I'm doing right now. On one hand I haven't slept for quite a while now, but on the other hand I've finally been able to articulate why that is, so I'm going to finish typing before I go to bed. Part of it is certainly conditioning. I pull all nighters so often that my sleep meter doesn't register as loud in my mind, kind of like a concience. I will hereby refer to it as my sleep concience (even though it really has no moral significance).

pipe smoking professor