i will always be nicer to the cat than i am to you

i miss sleep.

over the past three nights, i haven't enjoyed more than 2 straight hours of sleep. new bed, new location: none of it is working. i'm not exactly sure what is to blame, but it might lie in the fact that without some sort of shadow of a schedule or routine my body goes haywire. insomnia isn't that romantic image that some people keep in their mind, of the tragically tormented artist or writer sitting up late at night and working on his masterpiece, toiling deep into the night in a frenzied, idealized and passionate trance. it's not really like that at all. i stay up late with absolutely nothing to do. i want to sleep. i feel tired. but it never comes. it is incredibly frustrating.

i guess the only real positive is that i'm getting a lot of reading done with all the extra hours i'm not spending on sleep. i finished "the gambler" by dostoyevsky. now i've moved on to "dead souls" by gogol. i'm already a third of the way through it, and the night is still young.

due to the insomnia i've also become fairly introverted during the light hours. tonight i decided to try to go for a long walk in order to both get out of the house and also in hopes of tiring myself out so i could finally get some sleep. so far, i'm as awake as ever. however, the walk did help calm down some of the anxiety that had built up during the day. i saw a cantaloupe sitting in someone's driveway. i saw a horse living in a house (not a barn, mind you...an actual house). i trespassed and wandered for a good 3 hours or so, coming back well after the sun had set.

richard dunn died today.