All Creatures Great And Small
So I got to thinking about the little things tonight. But they were too little and scrabbly, and they moved too quickly and hurt the back of my eyeballs.
I thought I’d try thinking about the big things. But I couldn’t walk all the way around Love to get a really
good look at it so all I can report is that it’s kind of lumpy in some places and spiky in others. It’s many-hued. Awfully, awfully black’n'blue and achy-breaky in some bits, with electricity arcing between scuffed nerve-ending-looking things; and in others, it was more the tranquil yellows and comfy greens of an old bruise that it feels good to keep pressing. To remember the thrilling shock of the initial injury, or something. But that’s straying too far into middle-sized things and I tasked myself to think big. BIG!
The next big thing I looked at was Anger which was more of an installation art piece with forks and ankle-bones and hair-choked plug-holes. The most interesting thing about it was that I didn’t see any red in it at all and I was expecting a lot of red. It was black in the main with yellow flashes a bit like go faster stripes. Or fume faster stripes I guess they would be.
Despair was droopy and impotent looking. And the colour of a grime-smeared Band-Aid. And the smell of a municipal canteen. And the sound of nothing at all. It turns out that Despair sounds of absolutely nothing at all.
Appetites were pretty interesting. One Appetite was represented entirely by a life-sized portrait of Marlon Brando on the pigeon roof in On The waterfront.
Fear was in a room of it’s own with a smelly smell of its own seeping out from under the door. Pooeey, I noticed my nose was thinking and, congratulating myself on being so sensible as to have a provident peg to hand at all times, I walked on.
All in all and after a while, looking at the big things was giving me skelly-eyed, museum fug-head. My looking glands were over-stimulated and running low on the production of intelligent response hormone causing a scratchy sensation in my frontal lobes.
I think I’ll try thinking on the middle things from now ’til bed-time for the brain-coolingity of that. I have a splosh-glug of Chianti in a glass and I think it quite suitable to accompany my middle-things-looking, which comes with a rich cream-sauce, hinting at depth but with lively, populist flavours – like what Jon Stewart must taste like. And my choice of salad or fries.
‘Night then, cold, indifferent internet. Take it easy, ya hear? Rest up. See ya tomorrow.
What am I talking about. I’ll probably still be awake in 2 or 3 or horribly 4 hours time and possibly still peering at something essential I had to look up right away . This insomnia’s killing me. The circles under my eyes are Love-coloured, pining for unrequited Sleep, and the rest of me is grime-smeared-Band-Aid-coloured. I wonder what the collective noun for insomniacs is. Probably an unearthly wailing of insomniacs. I expect that’s it.
June 6th, 2008 at 1:04 am
A fidget of insomniacs? Or an unkindness of insomniacs? Unkindness is used for ravens and I’m not mad gone on them either. Ironically, a storytelling is also used for ravens, so I might be onto something here.
June 6th, 2008 at 2:17 am
Oh dear. God love you, the nightly torment and the daily torpor of it all. You must try and think of nothing. Nothing at all. And a little exercise maybe, and then some music to drop you gently into the arms of Morpheus. Something oothing.
June 6th, 2008 at 2:18 am
…beginning with s…
June 6th, 2008 at 2:56 am
Oh poor old sausage. Still no sleeping?
June 6th, 2008 at 5:23 am
I can’t help you, for I myself plan to sleep on the ‘plane. Or on the bus. Or on a whim.
Can you not go in your head to the places you most want to go to – daring the gods of sleep to either allow you that pleasure or to pull that rug from under your pillow sending you crashing into a peaceful place where colours have no edges?
A disco of insomniacs? Yes disco, not nightclub.
June 6th, 2008 at 5:33 am
Aargh, I knew you were an insomaniac from the day we met, Sam! Perhaps a soothing lullaby played over and over again would coax you into drowsiness. Jon Stewart would be less gamey than Jimmy Stewart.
June 6th, 2008 at 7:00 am
I’m an insomniac too, it takes me hours to get to sleep. Sometimes I think I’ve found a cure: once I found eating a banana an hour before bed helped but only for so long, then it was back to that frantic bed-time mind buzz. Exercise helped for a while too, along with drinking too much, giving up drink, and working till I dropped. But the effect always wears off. I once tried sleeping pills and all they did was make me feel terrible the next day. Now I try and console myself with the knowledge that many of our artistic and literary geniuses were also insomniacs.
Your description of the condition does seem to suggest that you might be one of the literary geniuses yourself. I relived many a tortured night reading it. I think it might be a ‘droop’ of insomniacs by the way.
June 6th, 2008 at 8:00 am
Not a thing to worry about, insomnia. The ways to solve it are. Neither the self meds nor the crap provided by the medical thugs are good or work. Better to get yourself a dog or two and think the self a hunter rather than a gatherer. There is nothing quite like the peace of the Dawn hours, when one quits worrying.
Enjoy it. Show others that its OK
June 6th, 2008 at 8:24 am
have you every counted sheep? Of course it could cause the giggles…and eventally extreme fits of non breathing laughter
one- wee sheep innocent and fluffy, jumps- nice balerina type move…clears the fence. second sheep (forget her name but I’m sure sam you know) leaps but was too invested in extending the leap in a more modernistic Martha Graham type posture (two sheep was dreaming of joining the russian ballet- no pretensions- siberian ballet company would do) anyway…sheep continue to pile up on one side…broken bones, mild concussions…nothing too serious when number 69 to the 22 power comes along and refuses to jump…he/she (bisexual cross dressing freak in leather) believes in the emminent right of sheep and declares revolution. The flame of independance is ignited- animal farm all over again.
I’d sing you a lullaby but that would either park you in the room with fear or you’d see red…
Seriously sam, I do wish for you a restful sleep…
June 6th, 2008 at 8:40 am
Conan, sometimes I run up and down the stairs to get rid of the excess energy. Sometimes that works although the doctor said to stop it, that would only make it worse. If something oothing would send me to leep, that would be a good start.
fmc, I expect it’ll go away sooner or later. I’m not even that tired during the day either but I really look like shit. Haggard, witchy old shit. I’ve got a big spot too.
Eolai, aren’t whims awffie pokey to sleep on? I’m glad you said a disco and not a nightclub of insomniacs – sleeping would be ever harder with the noise of all o’ them slurping perverts
Nanas, ooooh, a nice white with Jimmy, i think. Or a pint of gin maybe. I tried drinking too much the night before last and while I did fall asleep, yesterday was horrid so I’m not really into it as a solution.
Shoite, now i feel really whiney and o poor old me-ish, with all your sweet concern, folks. This post wasn’t meant to come of so moany. It’ll pass soon enough, I’m sure. The natural antidote is ennui and while that’s not much fun, at least it’s a change of problem for a while, eh.
Eryl. I’ll give bananas a shot. I am resisting sleeping pills too for the reasons you said. I am useless the next day. However it might be nice to pretend I’m a literary or artistic genius! Gotta fill the hours somehows and I’m partial to a spot of delusional grandeur.
Vincent, your attitude is refreshing but it’s not really worry about anything that’s keeping me up. It’s just something to get through with as much grace as I can muster because, this jangly, I’m inclined to be irritable too and that’s no fun for anybody.
June 6th, 2008 at 8:46 am
Jeremy, ha! Heaps of sheeps – i like it! Sorry. Had to escort a child to the bathroom there, hence your separate reply. I think I’m wearing the poor sheep out though forcing them over that damned fence all night long. I think they’re muttering about unionizing which is bad for me because it would mean I’d have to pay them every time I put one in a post.
June 6th, 2008 at 9:34 am
Hey Sam,
In this day and age you don?t have to suffer, silently or otherwise. First, an anxiety of insomniacs? maybe, for that typically is what keeps me from nodding off. It might be a cyclical thing, you may well be going through a phase dear, a dear phase Sam which in time you will look fondly back on. But for the moment there?s defo. stuff you can do and take which helps and as I said is no-addictive. The quacks will know the shit and it?s not mood or mind altering stuff, just a very small dose of a chemical thing which is mildly sedative and off you go. I use one occasionally (varies); I don’t particularly want to but it works a treat and I never have to use it on a second consecutive night and it never costs me a thought.
As I said, not a sleeping pill or a tranquilliser. Ask the doc. You sorta owe it to yourself now. You do. (Soothing ether empathy) And it regulates the fucker too, like bran, so you?re back on the piggy?s back. And yes, it is the genius thing.
Okay so, I lied, I?m an opium addict. I like the shit and I sleep all the time, I can?t stay awake. When I?m not taking opium I vary the thing with a train-spotting high heroin.
June 6th, 2008 at 11:00 am
And so asketh The Sneeze, “hath I been spammed-th? For verily did I posteth the onest comment – yea, the very onest this morn, but now ’tis gone. Or dideth mine browser upward fucketh?”
Was all about ravens and stuff, and quite witty (at the time). Anyway, not to worry. My prob is not getting to sleep, it’s not sleeping long enough. I wake often within a couple of hours. Though I think that’s better than not getting to sleep at all.
June 6th, 2008 at 12:36 pm
Sniffle – I’m not anxious, toots, just agitated. I know what ails me and it will go away but when it does I’ll be in for the glooms for a bit – there’s no way around it. So you see even when the insomnia passes I won’t be happy. It’s a pooer but that’s the way it is. I shouldn’t be whining because it could be a whole lot worse.
Sneezy, you were filter-mugged – I don’t know why that happens but now and again Akismet will catch dolphins instead of tuna. Thanks for telling me – I couldn’t get any of Mary’s comments for ages because part of her email address had “sell” in it.
It’s a murder of crows, as well. I think a murder of insomniacs wouldn’t miss the mark by too much.
June 6th, 2008 at 12:58 pm
A Dog, the dawn and a smile – my Hound was INSULTED by a cat this evening. She was shocked and ran all the way home. And it is my fault. I feel, blasted mixed up.
And an O-Sigh.
June 6th, 2008 at 8:35 pm
i would like to think that jon stewart comes with tater tots. and ranch to dip them in. and him. i’d dip him in ranch. i bet you would too. even if the answer is “no”, stay up another couple of hours and see if it changes.
June 7th, 2008 at 1:13 am
VincentH, was it a verbal insult?
Kara, ranch, you betcha. Tater tots I have never tried before. I’ve only just brought myself to eat baby greens and baby peas and carrots. Tots would make me an even bigger monster.
June 7th, 2008 at 1:25 am
No, Sam, it was with the nails. Damn it, I want her to be civilised, but I also want her to take care of herself.
June 7th, 2008 at 11:51 am
Ever try Valerian root, Sam?
It’s an herbal sedative and it works without any nasty residuals the next day. Look for the capsules that have at least 500mg and take 4.
Then it’s nighty-night.
June 7th, 2008 at 5:33 pm
That old rollercoaster is a bitch, Sam, but you do it with such style.
June 8th, 2008 at 8:32 am
One thing I can’t imagine you having which I suffer from is a sudden flash of rage, unbidden, sans warning which shivers my timbers and has people running for the hills. And I know my eyes flash at the time and it’s so ridiculous for a mature lady. There is usually a very good reason for it but that is no excuse and it makes me feel powerless and out of control. Must be a better girl – but how?