Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Him Don't Sleep So Good

Last week I was bitten by a spider, and the world being what it is, I've waited patiently for either an horrific death or the onset of super powers. Or both. Fortunately, neither fate appears to have manifested. Breathe easy, people: you've been spared the twin indignities of searching for something nice to say at my funeral and/or being rescued from Crimes by your heroic correspondant, clad in a pair of highly revealing tights. This latter failing in my spidery foe's assault has actually left me faintly relieved. Whilst the ability to climb up walls and sense evildoers, or whatever, could be pretty useful, super strength would be wasted on me (I'm already pretty buff), and quite frankly the idea of shooting a viscous column of bodily fluid from my extremities at thugs and ne'er-do-wells sounds unhygienic, not to mention morally dubious.

I was, therefore, going to thank Jah that my arachnid enemy only bestowed upon me a small abscess and a painful itch, all cleared up now (that's right ladies, he's guaranteed pus free)... but then a particularly specious exercise in syllogistics led me to realise that the eight-legged fucker had in fact landed a more subtly pernicious blow: since the time of The Biting, or thereabouts, I have been rendered largely unable to sleep. So to the little list of adjectives that your tiny minds already associate with the name Jon - bon vivant, raconteur, pokemon master, world-class shit - you can now add the epithet 'whinging insomniac'.

Inability to sleep? It ain't no fun, as you may be aware. But if you aren't, and were about to say something along the lines of, "But it must be wonderful to have all that extra time on your hands! Just think of all the things you could do," why not save yourself the verbal drubbing I'm about to mete out and kindly cram it. Insomnia stifles any creativity, rationality, or indeed cognitive function that you might once have laid claim to - stifles it like an over-bearing, domineering parent, passive-agressively overcompensating for the martini-fuelled ruin of their third marriage and failure to land yet another promotion (don't mind me, just working through some issues here). Any ability to write, think, read, create or even form entirely coherent sentences goes straight out the window by about night two (you can consider this post exhibit A), and considering I've never been any great shakes at those skills, you might sense my mounting concern. One more week and I will technically qualify for zombie status, which definitely has its perks (brains), but inevitably means another form to fill in come tax time.

On the average morning, around half three in the anti-meridian, the pile of meat formerly known as Jon may be found shuffling around ring-eyed in an unwashed pair of pants and a dilapidated dressing gown, amusing the tattered scraps of his consciousness by pretending to be a character from a Bukowski novel - an act which tends to fail through lack of booze about the house (drinking milk from the carton and swearing at the cat are about as close as I can get). The only upside to my situation is the intellectual feast provided by late-night television. If you haven't watched the Quizmania program on channel 9 yet, you're robbing your soul of the chance to experience a horror far beyond the dreams of Kurtz and Co. I'm especially comforted by the fact that no matter how lobotomised my current state, I still retain more life in my thought-meats than the lavishly coiffured Aspberger's poster-children hosting this show, which takes your pre-conceived notions of the word 'imbecilic' and laughingly hawks a great gob of phlegm on them from a height. But it's not all mind-numbing hi-jinks in late-night TV land, oh no. The tube in the wee hours can be educational, too. Recently they broadcasted a movie documenting the truth about the soccer match organised by Michael Caine and Sylvester Stallone against the Germans during WWII. Bet you didn't know it was Pele who scored the winning goal against those cheating Nazis, did you? Bet your so-called history books didn't teach you that.

Rants like those contained in the last few 'sentences' are the reason why, in mild desperation, I turn to you, O blogland. Sleeplessness is surely a quality shared by many of you beknighted internet devils, even if it wasn't instilled by way of a spider with a chip on one of it's many shoulders. Before I go all Tyler Durden, is there anyone out there with a viable, or at least distractingly amusing, method of countering sleep-loss? C'mon people: I'm falling apart here!

21 comments:

Tim said...

UR SO GAY!!!!!!!! YOUR A FAG! why wright all this shit abuot not been albe to slee!p? why not get some 1337 micro for uyou're pc LAWRKLIUHGFVH#W! and stop waisting my time wiht this shit! GROFFOLITSATNOB! i'll say again YOUR A FAHG!

Ahem. Sorry, been up all night playing Warcraft and fitting out my MySpace page.

audrey said...

Without wanting to sound anything like the Slingshot Gang, hahahahahah!

As for quizmania, I thought Hotdogs' show was bad but this is a cacophony of epic proportions. They should call it Stepford Quiz.

As for not sleeping, sorry I can't help you there. My sleeping pattern is so erratic anyway but it's waking up that I have a problem with.

Jon said...

uh u cannot say that tim it si well non u have lost at life with teh NO SKILLZ also ur mum touches u in places NOOB!!!!

Writing like this really is sort of addictive. Good thing it's the way of the future.

mscynic said...

Put some lavender on your pillow.

If that fails, knock back a case of wine.

Jon said...

But...then I'd smell like a girl. A drunk girl.

Unfortunately, drinking too much doesn't really work. I tend to stay up writing foul-mouthed hate mail to Rove Live and editing serious wikipedia entires to include the word 'doodle'.

Zoe said...

Have you tried a wank?

Silly me, 'course you have.

Anne said...

Becoming a zombie might also make completing the census a bit awkward. I liked this Lifehacker post on how to beat insomnia. Actually, I skipped the post and went straight to the comments. Some cool ideas.

Tim said...

Have you tried a wank?

Zoe, commoners "wank"; gentlemen "agitate".

James said...

I consitantly fall asleep concentrating on repetitive minimalist pieces such as Reich's music for 18 musicians.

Nick said...

I'm guessing that lack of sleep has sapped you of any goodwill and thoughfulness that you, um, once had. Make the best of the whole thing with some tiresome, unfunny 4am prank phone calls, vandalism etc.

Sterculian Rhetoric said...

tim - I concur, gentlemen 'agitate.'
Mind you, you must choose the correct lubricity, one with a smooth gentlman's finish.
The folks of the homogametic sex, well, do they 'slap the little man in the boat?'
Maybe they just 'polish the pearl?'

Where is that wonderfully erudite 'anonymous?' I do miss him so. You surely do not know what you have until it is truly gone. If perchance y'all might happen upon him/her, could you let him/her know that I tried the 'fuck myself' but myself decided to engage in acts preparatory to onanism instead. Bastard!

Armagnac Esq. said...

Agitating is probably the best single method. Kind of hard, um, though if you have a partner, and they are already falling asleep... you can neither agitate with them nor beside, really.

I have bad insomnia at times. Two nights ago I was up until midnight reading for a job interview yesterday. It was a rather challenging interview where I needed my wits about me, but what does my body do? Keep me awake until about 4am.

I spoke in a monotone through the interview and now have a sore throat. Hate it.

I've found big doses of valerian have a sort of noteable effect. Glasses of milk. Glasses of red wine (between 1 and 2, any more and you wake up restless).

Most effective is a big stretching yoga session earlier in the day- if you have the 'yoga soreness' you'll bomb.

Jon said...

Thanks for the suggestions, human people. I intend to try as many of them as possible, until one works or I collapse in a quivering heap.

I disposed of an entire bottle of wine last night, but got no more than a fitful nap around dawn for my efforts. And a hairy tongue.

I've tried valerian, and it does nothing for me. And as for yoga, well, my body is not the stretchy sort. It barely manages to bend at the joints, slack fucker that it is.

So far as 'agitation' goes, I'll have to get some recommendations from the Battaglia Boys. By all accounts they have their techniques down pat.

Tim said...

I tried Valerian when I had jet lag. It didn't work, and it smells. Apparently it's named for Emperor Valerian, who was renowned for his soporific qualities*. Also, he stank**.

* Completely invented.
** Probably true. They didn't have Rexona back then.

Sade said...

No need to ask, he's a smooth agitator ...

Winston Whitehead II said...

At carey we eat scotch fingers with the older boys just before bedtime. It's a treat.

Anonymous said...

If we could get some female hormones into you and start you lactating then you could do the night time feeds for my 5 month old daughter. LOL

Jon said...

An interesting notion; but sadly, were I to grow breasts, I'd likely spend my considerable waking hours playing with them.

Puss In Boots said...

Have you tried watching Gangs of New York or The Royal Tenenbaums? Those "films" are guaranteed to put anyone to sleep.

Cog said...

Did you happen to get a look at the spider that bit you? I'm still missing mine... if it was Inky please send him home.

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