I am tired. Muscle, sinew, bone: I am depleted to my core. I am tired. This time last year, I was tired too. Reading back on my diary tells me so. It helps to remind myself this is a patten, not a symptom. I am nature. Although not rooted, I am plant in human form, … Continue reading Night Night, Sleep Tight
Awake too early. Body has not yet completed its knitting back together, the overnight update is incomplete, interrupted midway. Half-installed is as bad as nothing having been installed at all. If I do not fall back to sleep, I shall be dysfunctional the day long. Program corrupted. I lay the palm of one hand upon … Continue reading Awake Too Early
On my computer is a file named 'Interesting Writing Articles' in which I have saved snippets, essays, and interviews that I have read and liked. I knew there was one in there with Joan Didion, an interview with The Paris Review, which, following her death in December, I went back to read. The article is … Continue reading The Nightmare of Dreams
This happens to me every year: I sleep my head off in January. I wake up and it has rolled off during the night, usually under the bed, and I am so heavy with the remnants of lassitude that it takes me half an hour to reach down, scoop it up and screw it back … Continue reading Slumber Number
I’m better. Pretty much. The fire in my head has been doused. T. told me to drink hot whiskey. I didn’t. Not because it wasn’t a good idea, I just forgot to uncork the bottle of Bush each evening. Y. suggested I gently tap below my eyes, from the bridge of my nose to my temples, tracing the … Continue reading Dream Angus
I’m down south in the big city, staying with M. I didn't sleep well on my first night here. Last night was different, who knows why. A change of place usually doesn't bother me, but I lay sleepless, aware of the night noises, quite different to those back at home. “You might hear the urban … Continue reading Night Noises
My Edinburgh Press 