Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Holy Crap, I'm Still Awake

I will make this brief. You see, I had such high hopes for this one...I had the notes in my blackberry all written in the most insightful manner and everything! After all, one is her most articulate whilst driving in the car stopped at a light, writing down thoughts into a tiny phone machine.

But now...it is late again, and after a weekend of actually going to bed before the witching hour, as the days grow closer to Halloween I find myself engaged in that most fruitless of habits--staying up late! You see, I am not in school anymore. I am not a worker of the graveyard shift--no, I am not even a late-night Cannon Beach party girl at the moment (and, by they way, if I were, the party would have ended at 9). I am merely a simple maker of beds; a yoga pose-ster; a dreamer-of-dreams. If I didn't know better, I would proclaim myself an insomniac, but I do know better, so I won't.

I will simply leave you with this tidbit written by Walt Whitman (A.K.A. "Uncle Walt"):

"If I had gone directly to the people, read my poems, faced the crowds, got into immediate touch with Tom, Dick, and Harry instead of waiting to be interpreted, I'd have had my audience at once."

J'ai fatigue,


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