1:54 AM

I tried to sleep because I intended to sleep. I might've even wanted to sleep. But I didn't sleep.

Four hours ago I set down the controller, turned off my Xbox 360, and initiated a carefully planned procedure to prepare myself, physically and mentally, for an earlier bed time. I folded half a dozen towels and carefully placed three times as many shirts on hangers (oddly therapeutic), ate a late dinner of scalloped potatoes and wings (bone-in, of course), watched the final four episodes of Californication's first season, and completed the evening by reading a collection of Bukowski poems while scooping the heart, soul, and body from a delicious mound of ice cream. Maybe the caramel topping, with its familiar sugary innards, was a bad idea. Maybe Bukowski and Duchovny jumpstarted my creative side - inspiring unrelated words and ideas to enter, linger, scatter and disappear without grace or reason.

Maybe a normal sleeping schedule's not for me.

I'll sleep soon. If my mind lets me.