Saturday, March 3, 2012

sleep deprivation

I'm not so much sleep-deprived as I am sleep-confused. I've been waking up at odd hours, napping at odder ones, some nights going to bed at 11:30, others 3:30. I'll wake up at 5:00 am and read or just say fuck it and get up.

Like today. I have a meeting at 9:00 this morning anyway, followed by an audition in Boulder, and since I didn't make it out running yesterday I'm just going to get up and go for a quick one.

The wonderful thing about it is what feel like 'bonus hours' to the day, in which I can work on my play. I've been something close to obsessed with it lately, thinking about it day and night, even when I can't actually work on it. Which is a wonderful feeling--the light is at the end of the tunnel, and the story seems to have its own momentum, which is a feeling like no other.

I checked last night and I've reached 120 pages, with maybe one or two more scenes to go before it's actually done. (Of course, after that I will reach the 'slash and burn' stage in which I will have to cut great swaths of it in order to get it to a manageable length (that's what she said). But at any rate, I've had some amazing writing days recently in which everything comes clear and I can see the trees and the forest all at once.

Anyway, I like this picture I found the other day; for some reason it looks like nighttime writing thought to me.

Edward Cao.
Wound, 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 18x24”.
Elegy, 2011. Series (I), acrylic on paper, 7.5x10.5”.


And since we're talking about insomnia, and the insanity that surely follows, here's the king of madness, Ren with his hapless buddy Stimpy.

How easily I could end the farce...

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