I never want to go to sleep again.  The only sleep I have any respect for is nap sleep, dog by my side, earplugs in, the rest of the world doing whatever it does all day—making noise, stirring up dust, laying out obstacles.  But then at night?  With them all asleep?  And I’m gonna put myself under?  I don’t think so.  It never gets more quiet than when everyone’s asleep.

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It’s not that I never sleep.  I sleep plenty.  Sleep is the opposite of lust.  I feel it when I dream.  Heartbreak, heart moan, heart ruin.  Long, lost, and forlorn.  Shorn or unshorn, whichever is worse.  

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I am just so in love with the world when I’m not hating it.  Look at all these people going by, look at the moon rise in the sky.  Let the road go by, cars like blinking ornaments.  My teeth are singing, headed in the direction of an early Christmas.

Night Mining...