Sleep does not come easily these days, though mood swings abound, and the wolves they howl all night long. In and out of dreams, not lucid dreaming exactly, but near enough. Not controlled but vividly remembered and relived throughout the day.
The show. The show was good. Saturday night. Restored my faith, though rocked me for the week leading up. The nerves were raw, and my temper flared with frequency, though of late I am thinking that perhaps the coffee intake and not enough water coupled with unpredictable weather patterns and a love life that refuses to be simple may also be spurring the demons on. I have been snappish with workmates from time to time, though try to mostly bite my tongue. But the show. The new joke I wrote, which is what got me all excited in the first place, went over very well, and I told a joke I wrote last year but which I have not told that often, and I nailed it, and tagged it differently, and better.
Where is this all going.
There is certainly more to tell. I try, I try. I fall. I get up. I ride out the hard days, hours, minutes, know that things will not always be thus, in fact may change on a dime. And they do. Change. Yesterday so full of anger and sadness. Took to my bed after work and cried and tossed and turned, today was full of sunshine and I rode my bike to work then all around town, ringing the bell and feeling general good will. The back of my thighs are making the odd under breath complaint, as are my shoulders, but am looking forward to a better sleep.
Two nights ago I dreamed a novel, or a film, or at least the bones of one. It is very dark, and I am certainly mulling it over, brewing it. My roommate is away this weekend and I am going to spend some quiet time writing. Riding bike, drinking decaf, ringing bell, and writing novels. Sounds good. Possibly work some necking in there and call it a great two days off.
Take care of selves, do right things.