Chicken Blog

I still can't fall asleep. In the darkness Diego and I walked down the hall and back to the bed. I felt even sleepier, and hopeful of rest. Diego resumed his bath. I noticed that the click and whirr of our fan is rhythmic, but the time that passes between clicks is like a chasm; the tempo is slower than a waltz. I was counting the slow clicks, when I realized that the actual rhythm of the turning blades is more chaotic than not, and might better be described as a distant and dying fire; embers crackling. Or then again not. It could be that the click and whirr of our ceiling fan is like the slow stirring of iced tea in an aluminum tumbler. Someone tired, and sitting at the other end of the bed, holds a plastic stirrer and turns it 'round the tall, metal cup.

I still can't fall asleep, so I think about many things that I want to recall later, so that I can write about them. I think of insightful concepts, anecdotes from my younger youth, and witty phrases that will elevate my writing style and eligibility to be interviewed on "Fresh Air." Brilliant. Too good to be lost. Yet they are.

There were some thoughts having to do with "altruism." I always understood it to mean being purely generous, while being anonymous, and I thought it meant not wanting to be recognized for deeds of good, but being satisfied to simply do the deeds anonymously. Insomniacally speaking, I was on to something truly profound, but somewhere between my bed and this desk I lost the point. This entire paragraph thus becomes like a long joke with a botched punch line.

The word "literary" sounds sophisticated. It only means "related to books," which is slightly less noble than one might think. Unless of course you have actually read a lot of books, and can use whole concepts and quotes from enduring tomes, in everyday conversation; then "literary" is noble. As for me, well, I have that unwelcome ability to make references that are more commonly representative of my generation; I can make televisionary references in everyday conversation. I can swim underwater in the style of Patrick Duffy in "Man From Atlantis." My first experience with Recreational Vehicles was when Billy was riding around the country in an "A" Class RV with his Mentor, on "Shazam." Ever ponder the possibility of time travel? No, not from H.G. Wells. Real time travel, like when Will and Holly went rafting with their dad and they came to the "Land of the Lost," and were then chased by a dinosaur in to a comfortable, homey cave. I do not know whether 'tis nobler to recognize Brunhild as one of nine warrior goddesses known as Valkyries, or as Bugs Bunny in drag. I remember sitting contentedly, watching Bonanza, (thinking why aren't there more episodes with Adam?) when some adult asked "Why does your generation watch this garbage?" "Why does your generation produce it?" I retorted with as much precocity as Danny Partridge.

None of this will sound as brilliant tomorrow afternoon as it does right now. I am so freakin' sleepy.