08 May 2010

cat at the bottom of the bed

The cat's grooming himself at the bottom of the bed. He's fairly meticulous, from what I can tell. I guess most cats are. One of my Red Sox hats lays on the duvet next to him. I think I threw it off in the wee hours, upset while watching the Yankees knock us around. The room's quiet otherwise, but for the sound of the cat's tongue on his fur. There's the sea in the background, of course, but sometimes I forget that's there. The curtains are drawn, but they're not dark, and the cloudy light from outside gives the room a soft, pastel glow. The sun pops out occasionally and its beams pierce the gaps in the curtains, drawing blades along the corners of the desk, the floor and the bed. Through the gap in the curtain I can see whitecaps on the waves and I guess the wind is still up. Now the sea is louder than the cat. He's moved from his rump to his forepaws and looks scheming, licking his claws in contemplation.

I didn't sleep much last night. Around 10 to 5 I felt myself slipping and then my brain noticed and was so excited by the possibility of unconsciousness that I woke up again. I guess I got maybe 3 1/2 hours in the end. I woke up several times after sun up and then gave up. I read the end of my book, which left me somewhat deflated (White Tiger by Aravind Adiga) - superb writing but it tried too hard in the end. Or maybe not enough. The result is often the same. In any case, I really loved the book up until the last 50 or so pages. After that, I just liked it. I read over what I wrote in those wee hours and found it to be the predictable gibberish I spout at that time of night. I was half tempted to delete the post but decided that while it was predictable gibberish, it was my predictable gibberish. And so now I sit, propped up in a bed seemingly incapable of providing sleep, still in my pyjamas, typing more predictable gibberish and wondering how to avoid the day.

The cat's finished his grooming. It's nap time. He's sleeping on the part of the bed that, should the sun come out again, will bathe him in warm light. His face looks scrunched when he sleeps and his ear twitches every once in awhile. There's no snoring, but sometimes the occasional groan. I try to match the sound of the waves crashing to the rise and fall of his striped breaths but there's no correlation. Each to their own rhythm.

insomniac musings

There's no reason for me to be awake right now. The Sox game is over and we lost. I didn't sleep in today. Work was long and in its way exhausting. I had a big dinner: a curry. My last cup of coffee was lunchtime - well over twelve hours ago. I'm in the middle of a book, and it's good, but not the sort of page-turner that keeps me up. So I don't really understand it. My head keeps fumbling with mental knots as soon as I shut my eyes. Then my bed feels too warm but it's chilly lying on top of the duvet. And so I sit here and am not surprised that the cat isn't lying at the bottom of my bed anymore. Restless bedfellows are no fun and he knows it. He must be tired because usually when I wake up at this hour he's here in a flash for a quick cuddle and probably the chance of a snack (he never gets the snack, not at this hour).

To be fair, it's not the latest I've been up of late. There's been the odd 4am and 6am finish, mostly seen along the way with copious quantities of Madeira, beer, whisky and whatever. Tequila too, though that was an early night. The bonfires have raged into the wee hours of the morning and I've still got the odd sand-coated, smoke-reeking article of clothing needing seen to. I've flown to Boston and back and Dublin and back since my last post, which was far too long ago. I've seen the odd sunrise and missed the odd sunset. I've not written any words of consequence, but I've thought of quite a few.

The cat's still hiding. Once I find my peace he'll pop in and pad my nose and purr and try to get comfortable. Until then I'm left with just my ponderings.

Sometimes there's clarity at this time of the night. Sometimes there's blurriness and confusion.

And sometimes there's just enough of both to keep you awake too long.