Hello to all un-sleeping people curled up on the mattress watching National Treasure through bleary, half-closed eyes, roosters on cereal boxes, and… … … *snort.* Huh? Were you talking to me? Um, and hello to all… something. There you go, live with it.
Last night, which became this morning sometime around four o’clock, I got no sleep at all. At first I just planned to greedily devour the newest Cassandra Clare novel for an hour or two until I got so exhausted and swamped by all the ridiculousness going on that my brain would work no good no more and I would drop out cold. But things didn’t go as planned; I read for a while, cringing at every romantic moment Cassandra Clare feels inclined to cram into her books, and then turned the light off and tried to get some sleep. I was restless, so I thought about the usual pattern of things: the best characters from my books, the next scenes they’ll be in; I worried and fretted and turned over again and again, and it became quite clear around twelve o’clock that sleep was not coming.
I sat up, considering a course of action. One thing I knew, I would not turn the TV on to channel eleven and watch French people guess the wrong yellow fruit. So what then? I thought it best to go sit at my aunt’s jewellery table — I had the basement room because of her absence out west– and, by light of the jewellery lamp, scribble some obscure poem-song called Paris, 1923. Then I considered making myself a necklace, but that seemed girly and I didn’t want to steal from my aunt’s beads and stuff. I ended up stringing a neatly-engraved piece of jewellery that looked like a tablet of mysterious properties onto a string, but couldn’t bring myself to take it, so I put it back. Then I wandered in circles for a while, trying to ignore my zombie-like reflection glaring out at me from the mirrors. Look, there’s that creepy hollow-eyed vampire again. Oh look, there’s the zombie that wants to eat your brains. They all look like me!
At two o’clock in the morning, I wandered out from the basement, hoping my uncle would still be up and I could ward off some of the late-night panicking by talking with him for a while. I found him at the computer on Google Earth, following Highway 180 or something through Pensylvania on street view. I was so needing of anything but the panicky darkness of my room that I didn’t even mind playing arond on Google Earth with him for a while. There is one town in Greenland, and it’s called Nuuk. As my uncle said, ‘If you moved there you’d be the nuuk kid on the block.’ I looked at Fukishima, but it looked fine, and then at North Korea, but there wasn’t anything special about that, either. After Google Earth got boring, (and that took far longer than you’d imagine, somehow), we watched a little bit of a show about aliens. I was impressed by the solar-sails idea, and I think that, if I were to be a space-traveler, I’d travel space on a great blue ship called The Starstealer with my crew of murderous pirates.
I wandered downstairs again, and my uncle came with me. We looked through some movies; there was some old TV show called The Pretender that seemed suspiciously like a bunch of other things, and we watched ten minutes of that before deciding, since there were morgues and body-dissecting and so forth going on there, that it wasn’t maybe the best thing to watch in the middle of the night, especially on my end, the panicky, anxious, crazed end.
My grandma came down, alerted by our late-night awakeness. She suggested I try falling asleep again, but I was too worried about all my irrational worries that I really honestly couldn’t. I couldn’t even lie down and close my eyes at that point– so, what better to do than to watch National Treasure at three thirty in the morning? The dog came down and lay down on the bed with us, wondering at our strangeness — those humans, being up at this hour to watch the moving-colors box! Blows my mind! And you know, I do like the first one quite a bit, especially the part with the glasses that lead to the final clue, but my favorite scene in those movies is the one in the whitehouse with the desk and… … …
*Snort.* Excuse me, was I trying to say something…? Does coffee work well? I don’t know if it’s wise to try it. It smells kind of like skunks and besides, what effect it could possibly have on my sleep-deprived, City of Lost Souls-infested mind is dubious.
Anyway. *Sighs, rubs eyes. Bangs head on the window.* I’ve never been up a whole night before. I like it! It feels neat. My favorite time of the day by far, I’ve just realized, is just at the very moment the sun rises, the second night passes along into dawn. I haven’t been up this early, and it’s 6:30 right now, since at least five years ago. Maybe I’ll do it again sometime. Maybe I’ll just never sleep again– I’ll bike around the country playing songs for food and writing stories twenty seven hours a day, seven days a week, for ever. I’ll be on the news — Crazy Sleepless Girl Turns Up In Reykjavik, Iceland. Where will she turn up next?’
On a subject loosely related to my sleep deprivity, I’m kind of enjoying Cassandra Clare’s newest tale of Shadowhunters and love and etcetera. It’s a Neil Gaiman-esque modern fantasy about demon hunters and so forth. The series should have ended at three, but she chose to go on with two others– bringing back the psycopathic evil-doer from the third book, who was once dead but, because there’s nothing else to write about, he had to be reincarnated and somehow joined with the main character’s love interest, so she’s not quite sure what to do with this. You wouldn’t be either, if your brother-who-is-evil-and-a-demon ‘joined minds’ with the boy-who-you-once-thought-was-your-brother-but-isn’t. Meanwhile werewolves and warlocks and vampires and making out like crazy, and so far I’ve managed to skip only one kissing scene, though I expect I’ll have to skip a few others. I can only take so much gushiness in one volume.
Romance, I have noted, needs to be placed only at the most delicate moment, and…