Not that I don't find occasional satisfaction in getting horizontal after a hard day of verticality. I understand the need for sleep, but understanding a thing is not the same as liking it, and it is sad to think, given how little time we get between the more thorough forms of unconsciousness, that something like a third of every life is spent in dull slumber. (To sleep is perchance to dream, and perchance I do, but not so I remember -- certainly not often or well enough to make sleep time fun -- and anyway, dreams are not "real," whatever the psychedelic hippies and head shrinkers say.) Sometimes I think it would be great not to have to sleep at all, thereby effectively extending my practical life span by some 50 percent, or perhaps I'd sleep but only on special occasions. I'd throw a slumber party and . . . sleep at it. Meanwhile, I do my best to snatch back bits of my life from out of the arms of Morpheus -- I'm eight hours ahead of the game this week alone. All right!
Pretty fucking tired, though.
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