(Trying to get to heaven?) before they close the door
Wednesday, October 29th 2003, 0118 hours
Location: my room
Weather: cool-ish
In the shot glass: Dalwhinnie whisky
In the vase: dead alstromerias
I'm spending the night at home for the first time in four days; the past three have seen me all-nighting in the Lit Honours rooms, writing. Now I've finished my tarot essay and passed it in, and the next piece isn't due till Saturday; so I figure I can take a few hours out to recover. A little rest, a little leisure. Much needed.
I've hardly slept in the last three days, having been far too busy to; maybe a little under two hours a day, on the average, in fitful snatches on the move. Twenty minutes on the bus, an hour on the sofa. I ought to be sleeping now, instead of typing this, but this unnatural wakefulness keeps you on... it's when you keep on walking, keep on moving, simply not stopping till you get the job done - and then you hit a point where this becomes new normalcy, and it's easier to keep going than to stop. And then a buzzing in the back of your head, a new tautness in your eyes and in your jaw; and your body and mind slip into a new efficient rhythm, steady and systematic, one-two-three one-two-three. Another little trick from the military: there's always more inside you than you think. When you think that you've lost everything, / you find out you can always lose a little more... wading through the high muddy water, with the heat rising in my eyes.