4/11/14

always with the ship metaphors

My sleep schedule doesn’t make sense anymore – I’ve unmoored it from the clock and it floats freely, sometimes scraping the shoreline. At 9 am, an idea for a girlie show flier drags me off my bed and up against my work table. At 4 am, I find I’ve passed out with my chin on the keyboard, endless zzzzzs stereotyped across the page. Was there time between? I go to work on one date, come home the next. Is a beer at six in the morning the same from both directions? 

2 comments:

B.E. Earl said...

I had a summer job in college working from 8PM to 8AM 2 nights a week. I'd come home, pack a cooler with a six-pack and a sandwich and go the the beach down the block to read a book. Fell asleep around noonish under a blanket and got up around six. Had four days off to catch up with life. Best summer of my life.

Ms. Moon said...

We are so different in this way. So very, very different. And yet, so alike in others.