Wednesday, October 14, 2009

It's One oh Two

by 13 Stoploss


I hate not sleeping. This thing just doesn’t shut off, damn perpetual tick tock racket inside my head. I’ve been sick since Saturday, and for the last three nights, I dipped not in spirit, instead relying on drowsy, sick pills that work too slow. Tonight, with half a dose remaining, they don’t work at all.

My stomach grumbles, and I’ve been munching like a stoner. No more chips. The 12 Grain Mini-Snack Crackers are all that’s left. They’re loaded with Inulin, a prebiotic fiber that supports the digestive tract. Water is stale and tastes like sick. My eyes bleed a winking daze, weary and restless from several sickness-induced day naps.

Stop thinking.

Stop thinking.

Turn off.

If I find Benadryl, I’ll surely be unable to get up in six hours when it’s time to take the boy to school. If I don’t, I’ll surely be awake another two. Maybe three.

Reading doesn’t help. I’m trying to turn off.

I don’t want Bourbon, or Rum, or Wine. I want sweet, peaceful, easy sleep.

And some chips and salsa. Or nachos. Greasy gas station or ballpark kind where the cheese broils in a festering rot of itself in a thick pan over a stove. And a Root Beer.

I probably should not have had that cup of coffee this afternoon.

Feels like High School all over again.

No trazodone.

Just need to shut off by myself.

-------------------------

*Continuation

It's twelve twenty-nine.

At seven thirty-six, an audibly blurred line of goodbyes and I love you's fluttered upstairs like a butterfly floating through a violent concerto wind.

Had I dreamt that?

It had rained all night, and a medicated dizziness circled my half-open eyes. My lips were parsed, and ears plugged.

The door slammed shut. The garage door automated itself downward, grinding and vibrating and falling.

Then, it was eight fifty-two, and all was quiet, except Dennis Bartel's talk on Tittle-Tattle and Antonin Dvorak.

The drugs don't put me to sleep, but they keep me asleep--and that isn't the issue.

--------------------

It's twelve forty-three, with two and a half more pages.

Still dizzy.

Taco Tuesday with tri-tip asada becomes leftover Wednesday.

And, I think I want to be CJ Chivers. Or, to do what my Journalism instructor and his photographer do.

I get jittery when I have caffeine after ten oh oh. So, I won't.


6 comments:

FOX3 said...

welcome to the club.

Army LT Keith 1966 said...

Ummm...Tasty Deeestruction on the chip bag...

My dog would have cleaned that up for you...and yak'd on ur couch...

Your writing is MOST inspiring.

Lt K

KathyB said...

Definitely benadryl needs to come early in the sleep period, not later, if at all. Sorry you have been sick. You may be a youngster, but timing on caffeine matters for some of us. I had to start watching that in my late twenties.

Your writing sings even when you are in agony.

Anonymous said...

Slooow down, guy. Relax. You got the rest of your life to live. You're in for the long haul, no need to push so hard. Get well. z

bigD said...

Hi Jason,
I have always been a "night owl", but, now with all this new shit on my plate I can't sleep either. I can easily be up to 0400 and not even blink an eyelash. Then it takes me another hour or two to fall asleep when I do lie down cuz I can't turn my head off and that's always trouble. Then I sleep until noon, which only perpetuates the problem. Hopefully, you will recover from your illness and get back in the routine. It is hard when you have little ones in the house. They always wake up way too early...it's a lot better when they get to be teenagers, then they like to stay up late and sleep in to all hours. Take care Jason.

bigD said...

P.S. - You could be CJ Chivers...why not? You might even be the more famous JC Davis! Keep your eye on the prize (if you have to be awake you might as well stay focused.)