Insomnia

Normally, after sleeping 4 hours the night before, I'd ... oh, what's that inane phrase? "Practice better sleep hygiene?" Feh. Obviously not.

Also, normally, if I'm going to drop blogospheric breadcrumbs at 3:45 a.m., I'd do it on Twitter so that work would be tipped-off to my probable total lack of functionality, later today. Well, again, obviously not, although I can't say for certain why. I think there's a little bit of guilt that I'm not lavishing this little "online journal" (how badly, really, do I date myself, admitting that that's what we called it, back when I signed-up for a LiveJournal account in '01?) with as much attention and compositional effort as, oh, say, THE THERAPY DIARY THAT KEEPS ME SANE. Sheesh, I'm a thickwit about some things. But, regardless of how silly the notion may be, I feel obliged to keep writing, here.

Of course, it can't possibly hurt that I'm up this late after reading a bazillion (okay, okay; two) moving blogs by other transfolk. Well, to be fair, I wrapped-up another KoL ascension, first, but that only took a couple of hours, and is totally beside the point; stop changing the subject. I suppose I have difficulty these days being content with the sole role of consumer. So, here I go, spraying excess adverbiture all over this poor text field. Oh yes, not to mention my confused channeling of both James and Thurber, alternatingly, in my strophic comma-insertion habits. Bah.

It's funny; I only seem to use interjective sentence fragments (and this compulsively neological compositional autocritical style) (actually, I think I prefer "neologotic") between 2am and 5am, and on my lunch break. They're not states of consciousness I would normally flag as similar; it's odd.

Oh well.

Hey, look; 94% signal-free noise!