So Insomnia ,so far...

I can't bleedin' sleep again.

I'm not alone here no doubt. I'm guessing that a sizeable chunk of the population of this country is in the same unfortunate state of consciousness for this time of night as I am, and it sucks.

My mum has always been able to sleep like a Martini, any time, any place, any where. My dad however, who I am genetically cursed to be most similar too, couldn't get to sleep in a dark room, on a dark night, with a background noise of nursery rhymes and a nightcap of Rohypnol.

Whilst the energy levels of my body can be likened to a light bulb being lit by a small waterwheel, I think my brain has ADHD. It never fucking shuts up, especially at night. So I have developed different ways, at different times, of drowning out the background burble of shite that it so dang maddening.

Recently, I have been using Twitter as a distraction to my night time lack of hypnagogia. Tonight it'd be best described as pissing me around so I'm falling back on a bit of blog action to help me try get my eyelids drooping.

Insomnia like is a tapping on the window of the brain (with a finger that is, not News of the World style). An irritating cackle of mischievous wee irksome sprites on the periphery of the mind, whose only desire is to whisper sweet bollocks in ones ears to the point that you'd rather rip out your own auditory cortex than listen to another minute of their tortuous nonsense. It's not a disease, you can't catch it and you can't be rid of it with a simple course of antibiotics. It's more like a gypsy curse, like something I became doomed to endure after wistfully dismissing a gnarled old crone's offer of lucky heather many, many moons ago, when I was young, and foolish, and impetuous...

Any way that you look at it, it seems like it's here to stay, those irksome sprites are like a house guest that you politely told once, in a drunken moment of affection, that they could shtay ash longash they wannid....hic! Who, whilst realising that you were off your Thresher's trolley at this time, decided to ignore that fact and move themselves, their furniture, and their immediate family into your spare room for the foreseeable future. And  now you have to live with the consequences, to accept the fact that they are here to stay, and make the most of their unwanted company.

So while they are up, having some late night, studentesque, putting-the-world-to-rights session with their feet up on my parietal lobe, I am writing this, in the hope that it's so boring it'll make us all feel sleepy...

...I think it has a bit...*yawns*