Balls to the walls, I can't sleep. The one time that I don't need caffeine to work, it invades my brain. Where are you on morning commutes? Where are you during the work day? Treacherous bastard, it's like biting the hand that feeds you. Or in my case, slapping the mouth that tastes you. Terrible metaphor but let's focus on what really matters. It's 1 am and I am wide awake. How awake? I can recite to you certain passages from Romeo and Juliet. I can debate you on the finer points of Superbad. I can probably walk someone through open heart surgery right now, if given access to wifi and wikipedia. But all of those things require another person present to be carried out.
In my lonesome, I thought about driving to downtown LA and visiting my friend Jack Daniels at a bar. I thought about driving out to Glendora to the 24 hour Donutman shop. I thought about lying in bed, listening to Turn on the Bright Lights. But my better judgment refuted these choices. For 1) It's Saturday night and let's not deal with check points. 2) Glendora at this hour? Do I want to be shot? 3) I still can't connect Paul Banks' voice to his face. Mindfuck! Have you seen his picture? He looks like he should be singing for a pop punk band! So now I'm out of options again. To the drawing board!
Maybe I will simply lie in bed and hope that dragons won't walk the earth and set everything on fire with their fire breaths. Which I know is not a possibility because Chuck Norris is alive and he would never allow such a calamity to happen. Unless, he was caught in a cage match with Jean Claude Van Dam. Then perhaps, I do have something to fear. No more negative thoughts. Think optimistically. Dragons are kind, friendly creatures who are simply overprotective of their young, so don't disturb Mama Dragon and we're good. She'll never set major cities on fire and we'll never enter a post-apocalyptic world where our main modes of transportation are roller blades and bicycles. We won't have to wear ill-fitting trench coats, fingerless gloves, and white high tops. We won't have bad mullet haircuts. We won't assume our potential stepfathers are vampire or lose our houses to golf course developers. Oh shit, I might have described every movie Corey Feldman and Haim were in from the 80s. So strike that and reverse.
In conclusion, Libya is a land of contrast.
And I need some sleep.