Monday, May 26, 2008
The Arrogance of Man
Given the choice, many people would swap sleep (in return for absence of tiredness) to give themselves more hours to carry out the meaningless shit they do, or to add contrived purpose to their actions, be it a God, a sense of value in their work or an inflated view of their personal influence on the lives of others. Thankfully the option of extended yawn-free vigilance still remains at the mercy of chemicals - no one has yet invented anything safe to keep idiots alert for longer than the power of a few lines of coke or some pro plus.
Control junkies aren't special in their ability to be annoying - indeed most things about human beings are irritating - from the artist constantly trying to better nature when at best he can rival or imitate, to the person who yearns for more hours in the day - a slightly different soul to the insomniac, Philip Challinor, before you start, insomniacs are addicted to tiredness and wear it as a yashmak of superiority, the "more hours in the day" cunt is the man who has just lost sight of his own value, he may sleep well at night. Although being awake may mean that a person has more control over his actions, he makes choices when to move and how, what actions to perform, it does not necessarily make those waking actions any more pleasurable or impressive than those that take place in his sleeping life. Just as a constant background noise masks the respiration of the world and the paintings in the art gallery block the view of the sunset, so does waking life seem to overpower the sleeping brain. The opiate of control is such that we become stupid to the constant presence of control-free pleasure, going as far as to play bluff and double bluff with ourselves, controlling our lack of control with drugs and substances from those as mundane as alcohol, to exotically post- gap- year ayahuasca in order to relax our grip, and experience that which was there all along.
As we have little recollection of what happens in our sleep unless it is a night terror or a particularly vivid dream, sonambulism or other such showy behaviour, it does not mean that sleeping is any less enjoyable than being awake. If in the waking hours our memories were reduced to be extremely short term, it would merely mean that pleasures would be quickly forgotten, rather than absent. Too much is made of pleasure simply being the answer to an ache, the act of living is a pleasure in itself.
That is all
Word Verification: dsmdnnnr, a very sleepy after-dinner speech.
Where'd you meet my ex-gf? I hope you told her she was a cunt.
I love sleeping, but it only seems to happen when I dull my wits with various concoctions.
I once wrote a country and western song titled "Its hard to go to sleep, its hard to get up".
I am TORTURED, you see...
Well, well: we are witnessing the birth of a new, mellower, and altogether nicer Noreen. (Is she in love?)
I have it on good authority that this blog will soon be renamed "Emerald Smile".
On the subject of sleep, I read the following top tip from my Viz "compendium" this very day:
"Find out what you look like when you're asleep by learning astral projection and then glancing over your shoulder just as you are leaving your body"
What are you baking into your brownies? Sheesh!
Sleep is the great escape, especially when one is sorely depressed. Better to drop out for a few than put up with a conscious window of funk. As far as dreams, depending upon their content, short of having a bed-wetting incident, usually the interaction is forgotten. Unless, as I think about it, an ex-inlaw, wearing strangely intimidating attire, and wielding a long, well-honed bayonet, enters my fragile subconsciousness. With that, I'd wet my damned pajamas, anyway.
Sleep is wonderful, it's like a little holiday from myself.
Rock on girl.
Staghounds- I would be positive all the time, if other people were less annoying.
Enoch -pyjamas are terribly gay
Audrey - you know me better than that.
Philip, you are the little, nerdy voice in my head. I hope that makes you happy
My jammies may be considered as such, but(t) trust me, there's no back door. In some corners of our troubled universe, that fact may be somewhat disconcerting.
Alas, two hours ago I knew it well : ~
Noreem you've upgraded the site! It looks great. All I need now are earplugs & a BB gun, and Tuesday would be an even better day. Good morning, all!
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