A cure for insomnia

1:00 a.m. Sunday morning – the clock looks like the fourth and fifth finger on my right hand. Amid sauna temps, crickets chirp.  Headlights strobe through my window. I am insomnia incarnate.

Two nights ago I perched upon wooden benches taking in a performance of Willy Shake’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and now I’m searching the cool side of my pillow for that Puckish merry wanderer of the night.  Lord, what fool a mortal I be.  It’s amazing to think five centuries have passed and the Bard’s breath lingers like new peppermints, while today’s news drifts away like an old fart.  Wit and wisdom have the staying power of a Viagra-induced erection.

In my youthful recollections, I imagine vast beaches laden with bikini-covered co-eds and neoprene-clad surfers.  Jogging along the Malibu sands on Tuesday afternoon, it appeared there’d been an infestation of antiquity upon the coastline.  Like hungry pelicans off the shore, strangely-shaped breasts dove southward toward curdled milk thighs and the skin quality had an Altamira cave painting thing about it, not to mention the overly-revealing European thong-thing Grandpa I-made-my-money-the-old-fashioned-way (shooting low-quality porn films on my beach house balcony) was sporting between the silver-backed peaks of his sagging ass – I didn’t know ass-cracks could have receding hairlines.  If Obama is willing to throw-in cosmetic enhancement for the elderly, I might get behind the plan. Alas, the rumbling Pacific displays a depth well beyond my capacities.

I don’t venture into the relationship world that often but some friends of mine insisted I meet this “very sweet lady” so….the rest of the story…. Ever met someone who had one of those faces where all the pieces of a face are there but they don’t quite add up to a face?  Don’t get me wrong, she was pathologically accommodating….and I was nearly kind enough to breach the velvet rope of her heart, but something in her DNA screamed un-evolved and I fled with that bat-out-of-a-cave V=∆x/∆t.  I know, that was not exactly a generous review of the evening, however I’m discriminating enough in my facebook friend acceptances to know she won’t see this silly blog.

Was watching the Republican debate the other night.  Sen. Rick Santorum suggested that giving States the right to allow gay marriage or legalization of marijuana breaches the overriding Constitutionally-laid morality of this country.  Whether you agree with him or not, it is an interesting contention. If we allow States to determine their own rules, do we then open the door to things such as a return to slavery? Or will States only be allowed to enact progressive legislation such as open borders, or polygamy?  The argument that a few progressively-minded States can set the course for a nation is intriguing.  Perhaps we Californians can take this opportunity to insist upon no State government.  Let’s only pay taxes to our own cities and decide how we want to run our own little communities.  But wait, if our state makes a law that says we have no state government, then….

New word of the day: Umderstand (def) when you do, but not really

Ah, finally, I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.  Lahko noc!

Uh oh, it’s back!

It’s been five weeks since I’ve rolled the leatherback up to the ol’ Qwerty board and banged out anything that would make your average reader cringe with vehemence, and so, it is with an intrepid palm and a murky mind that I attempt, once again, to pontificate.

Saw Richard III performed upon an outdoor stage, mock British accents succumbing to nerves and myriad missed lines causing horrified faces upon amateur actors whose idea of “the play must go on” lie somewhere between staring blankly at the audience and surreptitiously whispering the line to the fellow actor/offender. For those who’ve never heard the “my kingdom for a horse” line mentioned onstage, imagine your parent sitting on the throne when the toilet paper runs out—you get the idea. Dick 3 had good reason to kill everyone on stage.

Attended a Malibu wedding, bride and groom sharing handwritten vows with the sort of red-faced emotional enthusiasm one might expect from two kids headed into sixty years on society’s EKG-waved sea.  After an absurdly delicious risotto, and a mid-wedding internet update about Somali starvation scenarios, throwing rice at the newlyweds had a strange “there’s better uses for this stuff” thing about it.

Spent a day at the UCLA tennis tournament wondering when L.A.’s sporting scene became a competition of mini-skirts, collagen-enhanced lips, and breast implants. I’m not one for window dressing, but the tournament might consider hitting up Victoria’s Secret or Vivid Films as next years premiere sponsor.  Rest assured, there were a few tennis fans, but the clear winner of the evening was not holding a racket.

Won a four-hour poker tournament against some of the Grandson’s of Italy.  It’s ill-advised to spend an evening taking money from Italians – to be frank, I did check my car for any loose wiring and peered under my sheets for the iconographic horse head – but somehow I escaped unscathed and a few pennies richer. Epilogue: The round of post-lunch Sambuca’s I bought next time we got together totaled more than my winnings, which brought gratuitous smiles and post-holstered hands out for high-fives.

Haven’t done much writing lately, although the word of the day appears to be back and infecting my psyche the way midnight mosquitoes debilitate your dreams.  I guess that’s how the creative process ebbs and flows though, right?

New word of the day: Zenlightenment (def) the act of sitting around thinking about nothing and writing it all down