(no subject)

Sanguine.

Not that I am - too much rain, it's... confounding me - Brain Novocain. There's that one Bradbury - astronauts on Venus going mad from the tintinnabulation of the rain-rain-rain-rain-rain. The buses leak, the drips drop, it's rain and rain - and doesn't seem to want to stop. Lullaby of the sky - that's what it is. There's a strong disassociation that it shakes out in me - I'm feeling a lag between seeing and feeling, like typing is impossible. That's the rain. It falls mostly on my brain.

I have to hustle up an idea for tomorrow's game. I have to hustle up ideas at work, I have to consider my own work - my projects and ambitions - I have to plot my course toward a better self & better results & you know what? It's very hard with this rain. It's been hard sleeping - falling asleep when all day is somnambulation. When you spend the day in a sleepwalker fugue sleep makes no sense, it's the same thing just now, recumbent. Lie in bed and too many drastic and unfortunate memories - sleepiness not sufficient and exhaustion really not an option - so lie in bed and consider. It's easy to feel the failures and the tough, tight spots. It's 2014 - you know, I'm so glad it is, progress toward goals - it's happened, forward momentum is restored. Remembering all those years - 08-12 crises and failings, and falling to the bottom. Remember that? Remember having actually nothing. Not a thing to have or carry, maybe some old clothes. And now I'm alive again halfway there, to where I'm trying to be. Work and a little touch of prosperity, just my own little touch of it. And yet the rain... And yet the abiding sense that too much has gone and left and cannot be recovered. Ever.

So wake up miraculously - how did it even happen? How do you wake up when you spend hours trying to fall asleep - and torture yourself with too many errors of judgement, too many omissions and fallings short - too many things that might have been but weren't. These are the worst and they drag your head around and around so there's no right spot to lay it, no good way to fall into sleep. No way to do anything at all at all. And yet, there's the loud demanding shriek that needs addressing in the morning, there's even a half-hearted light from outside - slate gray, battleship morning. So I'm not in fact sanguine but rather governed by choler.