All last from last Saturday or was it Sunday's walk. Following don't know if I'm deconstructing or recreating, or just smoking too much out of my right nostril:
And this one, which I always used to call 'the three magi', being a pretentious tosser:
And to finish, one of my favourite old pics, when middle boy was wee - horrorshow extraordinaire...
The internet was invented for mad people. Probably by mad people. Who knows? Maybe not. Probably invented by the horrid extra-sane people who want to do away with all mad people. We shall all see.
Sleep is a bitch. Last night the fullmoon hid her lovely bum behind a stack of gauzy clouds, and my god I was grateful for it - the light was shining evenly across all the fields, but completely veiled. Enough to make me prance, and enough of a lack to get me into bed hammering my head with George Eliot. She worked me over good and proper, (George), and it was only an hour before I got my allotted five hours. Which was a positive result. I have been getting for me a reasonable quantity. Averaging just under five the last month. A few missed nights, here and there - but it is so difficult, counting the hours.
How does one count? I don't count four hours of waking every five minutes. It's vibrator sleep. Like being plugged into a jackhammer. Microsleeps? Is that the right phrase? It will do. Countless off/on/off/on like a stupid flickering lightbulb. But I still tally the hours and call it sleep, even if I don't count it for myself, as beneficial, or even the ghost of doing me good.
And here I am again, at nearly six. If I don't hide the boys will be down, and the joy in their faces when that happens is impossible to fight against. They will force me to put Reinhard and Grappelli on and dance. No, these days they know how to find it themselves. I must wrap up quick and hide in a bed.
My youngest brother was lamenting on facebook that sleeping pills don't work. No, they don't. Not even 4x the dose. I tried to gently reassure him. If there is a bloody genetic basis then it's on both sides though. But genetics can stick itself up its own reductive arse. I don't deny it, but I do fucking cry out against it. I certainly would never call it a genetic 'disorder'. DISFUCKINGORDER. How awful is that? The road to Eugene.
Enough! I have about five minutes to hide. They are still working on GMT. Or does that give me an extra hour? Who knows. It's a big pile of poo, whichever way one looks at it.
Goodnight all. Keep safe. Apologies for the rambling. Dx