*yawn*

<thoughts floating around a random cross-section of people in little bitty bubbles over their little heads>
A: I wish I could earn a little more tomorrow than I did today.

B: I wish I could look a little more beautiful tomorrow than I looked today.

C: I wish he'd smile at me a little more tomorrow than he did today.

D: Is she going to eat that last fry?

E: (blank)

Me: I wish I could sleep a little more tomorrow than I did today.

The only thing i really want to do in my life is sleep. As long, as comfortably, as soundlessly, as undisturbed, as cozily, as warmly as possible.

I'm not lazy, I say. Sleeping is my one true passion in life.

Like right now. There is nothing I will not do to be able to curl up with a cover and a pillow. My eyes are barely open because it's too much of an effort to keep the lids fully open. I prefer to let a bare minimum of light come in and disturb the sanguine sleep-suspended nerves in my eyes. Besides, keeping them thus positioned lends a blurry image wherever you look, thus not taxing your brain or your eyes too much, letting them stew in intoxicating indolence.

My brain is one-track, it feels like tapioca someone put in a bowl out in the sun to cook. there are dull echoes all around of "sleep". Like someone came and bellowed about a month ago in the Silent Valley and it's still doing rounds. It's not "sleep!" or "sleep?" or "sleep." It's just "sleep". Distant, but persistent, dull. Like an incantation right at the back of my head to induce it, as if it needed any urging. Sleep comes, at all times, at all places, in all situations. It needs no external influence, and meets with no internal resistance.

Frost was an ass when he wrote "the woods are.... miles to go before I sleep." Needless torture, IMHO. Why postpone pure eternal undisturbed sleep for walking miles when you can have it here and now? I mean, bliss and paradise and utopia are all of what man's looking for in life, right? Why fight so much, catch so many flights and run around all over the place sweating and breathless and altogether so BUSY when you can quite comfortably turn off the lights, pull the covers over your head, a hand over that extra pillow and pull it under your chin and go to sleep NOW?

People, they are stupid. They have sex, do business, drive cars, play guitars, drink beer, smoke weed, play chess, poke hypodermics into their ugly arms, watch television, reflect light off their heads, do whatever the shit it is they do to keep themselves happy. I'm not blaming them, hey, they do what they know, the chess players, they're as stupid as the fornicating machines, to me.

The problem is, this, good man, is a fucked up world. There is starvation and exploitation and torture and madness and evil and fundamentalism and capitalism and conservatism and pollution and the big hole and every where you look there's another problem right around the corner, waiting to screw you over just when you thought you managed to get away from it for a little while.

But come, friend. Rest your head and go to sleep.
Herein lies the truth. Look no further, paradise is possible here and now.
Because once you're asleep, you're in BLISS. You've got sunshine in a bag. You're away from all the shit, and it feels SO good. You've got a small cozy world of your own once your eyelids close and it becomes dark outside. This string quartet starts playing inside and you can do whatever you want.



Stop searching forever, happiness is a nap away.

On Siestas and related stuff.

If it's non-nocturnal there are two other categories dreaming can fall into, IMHO. Day-dreaming and during a siesta. The former's possibly my favourite. I feel no need to relenquish my hold upon the surreal to keep a foot in the mundane. Though of course, I am accused of failing to do so (keep myself grounded) often enough- but fantasy is really too fantastic to give up. Isn't it often the case?
But I digress. I wanted to talk about the dreams that often torment you during that much-needed siesta. Chennai, my good woman, (yes, yes, or man) is a freaking hot place. The thermometer's usually right up there in the forties or almost always in the late thirties. The humidity factor is high enough to be right-down oppressive. All this, coupled with the fact that like most people reading this, I'm human and am extremely susceptible to those post-luncheon yawns... throw in the extra factor that my exams got over recently and what MORE do you want?

Oh, yeah, i advocate afternoon naps all right. I love 'em. Just hate the after-effects that go with them. You wake up with a start feeling hot, nauseated and with that feeling in the mouth, y'know, remembering that last dream you had and oh... it just refuses to go away like a decent morning dream. You stagger out of bed (my "naps" extend for three hours from two-ish to five-ish) and the rest of the day is one long zombie-like episode. I am unable to shake that feeling of heaviness in my eyelids, that lazy creak that threatens to be heard each time I move a limb, that over-all feeling of having slept just a goddamn bit too much when you have the whole goddamn evening ahead of you (and it's so fine too) and absolutely zilch enthusiasm to get on with the day and out of the house.

And the dreams. Ugh. About a week ago I dreamt my Grandmom, Dad and I were trapped in the house along with a teenage murderess who had killed before and wouldn't hesitate to kill again.( Yuck. It pains me to think that my subconscious is prone to such cheap thrills). Well, eventually, it turned out during the dream that my perfectly innocuous father was a Detective and was going to save the day. Not too well, though, I got stabbed in the tum by this female and of course, woke with that horrible start. It left a sour aftertaste.

I don't do much siesta-ing now. Nah. The after-effects are too much for me to handle.