Why don’t I just go to sleep? My bed is right behind me. It is ready to embrace me with its soft, downy arms. It is eager to keep me warm through the night. It would be honored to let my burdened back rest on its supportive frame. Yet, I choose to let my feet grow numb to the cold. I am slouching like a ten-year old at an adults’ dinner party. Ignoring the seduction of my bed, I am like an Arcata corner bum who refuses to take advantage of the opportunities right in front of him.
I know I just want to write. I want to write about this weekend. My experiences at Denver, Colorado provided much insight into the world I must navigate in soon. I want to account for details, but sharpness of mind is dulled by the lack of sleep. Perhaps I should listen to that tired voice. I will try sleep.