I Can Always Sleep

We went back to sleep at 4.30am. Ah sleep, what I do best, as I always say. You’d think it should be some what diminished, some how affected? You’d reckon? It is what everyone complains about? Not able to sleep. Up for two days. Up for five days. Up for weeks? Whatever? I’ve never been up that long. I can sleep on anything. I always have. I have an ability to just switch off, at some point, usually at will, no matter what, I will just kind of stop. I lay my head down and my body twitches and the back of my neck pulses and I think I am not going to sleep and then zzzzz. I don’t know why, it is a skill, I guess. Pills, tabs, powders, liquids, inhalants I can always go to sleep after I have taken them.

We were up again at 9am. What is that five hours? I guess that is all you can expect, really? No really? Short and sweet.

Buddy came in this morning doing his dancing bulldog routine. We could have 2 cafes, Three Ducks on the Wall and The Dancing Bulldog, ha ha… He’s funny, I think he is still getting over his 24 hours on his own, not something he normally has to do, I’m sure he is still dancing away from it, keen to stick by our sides in case we contemplate it again.

Sam made porridge. Honey, banana, maple syrup, milk. Warm, soothing, like a thick jumper on a winters morning. I made coffee.

No computer. The stark reality of the night before started to sink in. Fuck! What have I done?

Sam restored my data back onto his Mac Air. It is exciting, really. Within an hour of getting up, on my own sign-on to his Mac Air, I had my computer data from the moment before the glass clipped the teacup and everything went black. Everything. Okay, not my complete photo collection, the data for that is all there to be restored, but maybe that may have to wait for the permanent solution to be decided upon. And my itunes isn’t up and running, so no music, but everything else.

We ate chicken schnitzel and salad. Something green, something white, something red… well, a lot of green.

We watched porn in the afternoon, yes, that much was still working. A friend of Sam’s gave him the name of a new porn hub site and I looked up father and son and brother porn, my own favourite drug-o-perve, amongst a few. The Peter’s twins got a whirl. The two French boys in suits were probably two of the most handsome men I have ever seen together in my life.

The days slipped away quietly and clean.

We ate hash browns, eggs, corn. It was nice. The textures were just right, something woven, something round and something smooth.

We watched TV in the afternoon. Quietly. Calm. Actually, I felt really normal. I tell you the tina isn’t what it was. I like the spiders on my back, I like the skin crawl, it is the reason to take drugs, for goodness sake. The changed reality, the altered state, the difference, I like all that and did I feel it? Not so much.

We decide that is the last time. It just seems pointless if the quality isn’t there. If I’m not going to get really out of it, get really fucked up then I don’t really want to do it anyway. I had really given it up anyway, a few years back, time to do other things, adult things, but Sam wanted to do it. But now he agrees. If the high isn’t high enough then it just isn’t worth the come down, or the money, or the time lost, to have a mediocre experience.

We watched Arj Barker. He’s great, I love Arj. I’d seen this particular show live at the Melbourne Town Hall at the comedy festival, but it made no difference, it was still very funny.

We went to bed at 10pm. I sat up in bed and tried to type this all out, until Sam said, “Switch it off.”