Week of Silence '05: Day 7
the thing about sleep is, it's very sneaky. like a wily fox all ready to pounce and bite you when you're too distracted by something shiny in the corner. it's that pretty girl, comforting and kind, whispering hot breaths and silent imagery into your head when your guard is down for just two seconds. it's death without the finality.
it's friggin awesome, the way you can get high on sleep like that.
so, of course, this is what i did. sleep. and sleep. alarm, flailing arms, muted alarm.
more sleep.
now this isn't the ideal situation for a guy who, say, needs to return a rental car by 7:15am or else he'll get charge a whole other day's worth of usage. and it isn't the ideal situation for a guy who's spent a week throwing himself about the greater fifty-state-area and, as such, has a whole bunch of stuff to finish up before returning to work.
psssst, that guy i was talking about? just me all over.
but since when have i been the fellow that swims in ideal situations, when have i drunk anything but spilt milk. when have i ever given up sleep (in a bed with just that certain warmth that should never be taken for granted) to do something as uncharacteristically me as return a rental car? on TIME, no less. so enough with that train of thought and hopeful fantasy, you. we all know what happened and that's the end of it.
sleep sleep sleep.
now it wasn't over indulging, it wasn't dionysian in the least. it was simply settling and warm and heart poundingly calm. and then i woke up.
the thing about waking up during the week of silence is, you're always afraid the night before. this kind of subtle and riptide-like fear that you'll wake up and forget for a few seconds that it's the week of silence. that some stupid commentary like "man, am i thirsty" or "bloody hell it's cold in here" or "damnit. honey, i think you threw my back out again last night" you fall asleep with the pinprick haunt in the back of your mind that nags at you to remember and not let it all fall flat because of a stupid ten seconds of being drunk on sleep. so i woke up and probably was as close to saying something as i ever get. why? because it was damn cold in there, i was friggin thirsty, and i definitely have a problem with my back. this close, i think. this close.
the day passed rather quickly. what exactly happened, i don't remember. at least not right now. roomate gone for most of the day, food to be cooked and scripts to be polished. emails and phone calls and emails and other things. a few minutes, here and there, to think about the letters and the emails and the phone calls i didn't make. and wouldn't make. a few minutes laughing out loud with every ounce of air in my lungs for the first time in a week. a few minutes of singing out loud and talking out loud.
but, all in all, it all lead back to ending the night with a few minutes of simple, silent silence.
lesson for day 7: getting back into the swing of things usually doesn't involve any swinging, the daily grind is rarely a daily grind, and sometimes the best days come after the best days.
it's friggin awesome, the way you can get high on sleep like that.
so, of course, this is what i did. sleep. and sleep. alarm, flailing arms, muted alarm.
more sleep.
now this isn't the ideal situation for a guy who, say, needs to return a rental car by 7:15am or else he'll get charge a whole other day's worth of usage. and it isn't the ideal situation for a guy who's spent a week throwing himself about the greater fifty-state-area and, as such, has a whole bunch of stuff to finish up before returning to work.
psssst, that guy i was talking about? just me all over.
but since when have i been the fellow that swims in ideal situations, when have i drunk anything but spilt milk. when have i ever given up sleep (in a bed with just that certain warmth that should never be taken for granted) to do something as uncharacteristically me as return a rental car? on TIME, no less. so enough with that train of thought and hopeful fantasy, you. we all know what happened and that's the end of it.
sleep sleep sleep.
now it wasn't over indulging, it wasn't dionysian in the least. it was simply settling and warm and heart poundingly calm. and then i woke up.
the thing about waking up during the week of silence is, you're always afraid the night before. this kind of subtle and riptide-like fear that you'll wake up and forget for a few seconds that it's the week of silence. that some stupid commentary like "man, am i thirsty" or "bloody hell it's cold in here" or "damnit. honey, i think you threw my back out again last night" you fall asleep with the pinprick haunt in the back of your mind that nags at you to remember and not let it all fall flat because of a stupid ten seconds of being drunk on sleep. so i woke up and probably was as close to saying something as i ever get. why? because it was damn cold in there, i was friggin thirsty, and i definitely have a problem with my back. this close, i think. this close.
the day passed rather quickly. what exactly happened, i don't remember. at least not right now. roomate gone for most of the day, food to be cooked and scripts to be polished. emails and phone calls and emails and other things. a few minutes, here and there, to think about the letters and the emails and the phone calls i didn't make. and wouldn't make. a few minutes laughing out loud with every ounce of air in my lungs for the first time in a week. a few minutes of singing out loud and talking out loud.
but, all in all, it all lead back to ending the night with a few minutes of simple, silent silence.
lesson for day 7: getting back into the swing of things usually doesn't involve any swinging, the daily grind is rarely a daily grind, and sometimes the best days come after the best days.
posted by Mister Vikas at 11:44 PM
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