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I've been more or less awake since Sunday morning (for values of "more or less" that come down to not more than twenty minutes' sleep at any time, and those snatches rare and dreamwracked). This is Wednesday. Um.
Apparently when I'm this tired I doze in micro-seconds, dream in snatches. I was sitting on the sofa, reading William Gibson; then I was on stage, a rockstar, singing a song called "Just One Guy" (don't ask me: I think I was making it up, but it seemed entire); then I was back in the room again, and I hadn't even lost my place on the page or in the narrative.
In other news, there is none. I'm having a sofa-day. I have to do performing this evening, which could be kinda grim; I have to do writing, but that's just out of reach; I'm scared of going to bed tonight. Another night like the last three, I might break altogether.
Apparently when I'm this tired I doze in micro-seconds, dream in snatches. I was sitting on the sofa, reading William Gibson; then I was on stage, a rockstar, singing a song called "Just One Guy" (don't ask me: I think I was making it up, but it seemed entire); then I was back in the room again, and I hadn't even lost my place on the page or in the narrative.
In other news, there is none. I'm having a sofa-day. I have to do performing this evening, which could be kinda grim; I have to do writing, but that's just out of reach; I'm scared of going to bed tonight. Another night like the last three, I might break altogether.