No sleep

What's the best way to counteract a particularly brutal bout of insomnia (I haven't slept since Sunday)?



This jangly, exaggerated, dark and goofy music suits my mood perfectly. I feel dessicated and on-edge, and a twisted cover of the theme from Rosemary's Baby played at top volume in my headphones is just what the doctor ordered. I'm playing it so loud that K. keeps looking at me over her shoulder.

Eskimo strolled in, as she usually does, just before nine--she'll leave at five after taking an hour break, too. Immediately she started moaning about her son: "He can't drive a car, he's no good with his hands, he doesn't test well. I mean he's not a complete idiot, he's just close." He's still thinking of enlisting in the Marines, and she's freaking out. Can't blame her.

It's been a long time since I wrote about politics here; sorry about that, but not really. I've been allowing myself small doses of the old wonkish behavior: David Brooks on Imus this morning, actually reading the Times instead of leafing through it again--last night I even watched 20 minutes of Chris Matthews, which I'd not done in months. Five months ago I was watching The News Hour religiously, all the Sunday news shows, reading three papers--and what did it get me? Angry. Last night on Matthews a former CBS journalist had the audacity to claim that someone had set up Dan Rather with fake docs--I think the whole thing was a black op too--but she was dismissed with a harumph of contempt, even though the other panelists all admitted no one knows WHO forged the documents, and it hasn't even been proved conclusively that they ARE forged--and no one doubts what the docs said was true anyway.

I think it odd that the White House released the same docs the same day as CBS, without comment or challenge, and then some right-wing blogs jumped all over them. Especially odd given the close (and often financial) ties this Administration has with media figures.

Last night's bought of sleeplessness was particularly unbearable, because I was physically wiped out after moving books for 7 hours, and I went to bed at 10:30, fell immediately asleep, and woke up after ten minutes. Then all night I lay there, dry-eyed and pooped, unable to understand why I couldn't sleep. Every little noise Cha made of course was to blame; every miniscule source of light was the devil's work; my pillow of course is not perfect. I even read a long chapter on Triple Entente military spending, taxation, and debt before WW1--and couldn't sleep after that.