mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

Tag: Insomnia

I have a longing for eternity

When it’s night, I want it to be night forever. When it’s day, I want it to be day forever. When it’s summer, I love the heat. When it’s winter, I love the cold. When I’m awake, I never want to sleep again. When I’m drowsy or dreaming, I never want to wake.

The last one is the only one I have any kind of control over, and when I’m on my own schedule, I tend toward extremes. Up two days, asleep for one. Up four days, asleep for two.

I want to live forever only because I’m living now, I think.

But one day I’ll die and probably want to stay dead forever, and then I bet I’ll get my wish.

Something that’s been keeping me up lately.

Well, caffeine and stress have been keeping me up. But if those weren’t already doing it, this probably would:

Brain fungus. For ants and small insects in the case of this video, but you know there are several types that already exist for humans and I can’t help but think research scientists are hard at work around the world trying to modify existing fungi for military applications.

This about that for a second and try not to let your head explode.

Of course if it does, it’s probably already too late for the rest of us.

(There’s also this, but it’s more cool than anything:

Supernatural proverbs born of sleep deprivation and infinite wisdom

I saw a ghost rise up in him and shout, “Blest be the fools!” and from then on we prospered.

Decency is dead. Indecency, asleep. Apathy reigns with a loose grip. I am indifferent to it all, I suppose.

Give me my sword and my shield and let me ride out into battle! I’ll kill all the infidels and barbarians and dark-skinned people and be back in time for supper.

There’s a light in front of my eyes, spotty and shaking, like my vision is peeling back and I’m near glimpsing reality. And it’s beautiful and it burns like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Tears fill my eyes and 

It was too much. Too much to know or comprehend. Too much to even care about, I think. 

There’s the light again. There was reality brilliant and perfect right there, an arm’s length away. There’s heaven or enlightenment or a sign I ought to close my eyes and go to sleep.

I saw an infinitely large sphere once. From the outside. I had a fever and I dreamed it into reality. And I was in the fourth dimension of space looking down at the infinitely large sphere and I was afraid, as afraid as I’ve ever been in my life.

I see two girls kissing and another underneath them. And it’s pretty. Curvy and feminine and totally platonic in a sexual kind of way.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God, and I consider myself quite industrious.

The economies of scale dictate a large phallus be presented to the heads of state at a time when everyone can be awake to bear witness to the Invisible Hand stroking it off and sending emissions of productivity everywhere. Praise be Adam Smith. Amen.

Her head hurts. She has a headache and that’s why she’s not interested. I wonder if she’s sick and just allergic to me being horny.

If I were more empathetic, would I be less pathetic?

He’s just stalling now. Can’t get it up so it’s my fault somehow.

As we live our lives, there is a near infinite branch of possibilities stretching out before us that continually shrinks and shrinks and shrinks until finally there’s just our last breath and nothing else to do. 

I’d like to be a firefighter or a scientist or a minister. I’d like to administrate other people. I’d like

Or maybe there’s just one path the whole time and we can’t quite see it until we’re there.

My stomach is empty, head, too. I’m full of nothing but want, so call me an idiot and let me go home to bed. I need sleep and prosperity.

Got no sleep, didn’t wake up

If that seems like it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t. But what happened was I had a real case of insomnia and despite my best efforts, couldn’t go to sleep all night. I went to sleep in a chair about 8 am, and then slept until about 11:15, missing church.

And the week seems so empty without church, for some reason. It’d be nice if there was something intensely spiritual I was missing, but that’s not what it is.

Part of it is that it’s like a counter, kind of. It’s the one thing I do once a week, and let’s me know “there’s another week of my life passed”. My days and nights are screwed up as it is, but my ability to know time is passing remains intact as long as I go to church on Sundays.

The other part I guess is being with other people and getting to experience that social phenomenon where everyone is happy to be in the same place and seeing you. A lot of it is psychological, and I think that’s why almost all churches or like-minded gatherings can provide something beneficial in that way.

You can’t get the spiritual benefit from just going through the motions, however. That takes conviction and genuine belief. You can get that most anywhere, too, but unless the beliefs are true, I suppose the spiritual benefits are just psychological, too. Some people will hold that they’re all psychological. Maybe they’re right, but better to be psychologically satisfied with an illusion than unhappy with reality.

May we all have insomnia, and the gift of inspiration

May we live in the night and take from it all the quiet serenity that exists not during daylight, and treasure it, always, savor it, always.

When it comes at last, may we all sleep soundly, our bodies reinvigorated for the toils of a new day, our minds granted visions of realities we cannot waking know, and our spirits glimpse eternity in the images dancing long before our dreaming eyes.

May we all be satisfied, no matter the circumstances, and ambitious, no matter our possessions. May we all be joyful and hearten our fellows by our company. May we love all, and be better loved, still.

The illusionary existence of an internet person

Despite what you may think, I do not exist.

That’s right, I am not a real person. I am a composition of colorful pixels which create the illusion of an identity where one does not truly exist. When you close this browser or go to another page, do I not cease to be, in your mind if nothing else? Should the internet crash and all data be lost, would I not be lost as well? Can I venture out in to the world, or am I contained by your screen? Truly, I am just a fleeting idea of person, a concept constructed of imagination, and nothing else.

The internet allows people such as myself to exist where they wouldn’t otherwise be able. There is a real person pushing the keys, there has to be, but he (or she) does not necessarily have to be anything like me. It isn’t that hard to fill out data fields falsely or change them, and in the digital age, not even a memory or sign of the previous data will be left behind. It isn’t that hard to present yourself in a manner that is entirely different from who you are in reality, or rather, who you appear to be in reality.

Even people who consider themselves to be genuine are not. In the real world this occurs, to a point. You present a version of yourself that is best suited for the people around you. But, this version is still bounded by reality, to a degree, and social acceptability almost always. The internet has no such boundaries. A person who wants to be pretty, can be. Take a picture from the right angle, or just use another that you say represents you, and suddenly, you are.

“Are you rich?” someone may ask.

“Certainly,” you answer, “just look at my income. I make over 100,000 dollars.”

The internet allows one to lie without consequences and in the process, these lies can become a reality unto themselves, coalesce in the vast wastelands of deceit and evolve into new beings. They can lie so well, they express truth better than the real thing.

I have been many things in the past, but they have died and no longer exist. I have been fifteen, twenty-seven, thirty-five, and seventy. I have been white, black, racist, Jewish, male, female, fat, skinny, straight, gay, intelligent, stupid, clever, funny, serious, likeable, hateable, religious, atheist, loving, and callous.

In just a handful of years, I have lived lifetimes. Most of the websites within which those identities were born have long since closed down, and no trace of them is left behind. One day, this version of me will die, too, with a whimper rather than a bang, and perhaps eventually, I will not be reborn. But I treasure my fleeting existence. As a fleeting idea, myself, I can expect no better.