SPARKLING JEWELS ON THE HAND OF GOD STABBING BLIND IN THE FOG

I can't sleep anymore. At least I can't sleep through the night. I go to bed about 11:30pm, fall asleep and wake up at 4am every morning. It's way past hunting season so there's no good reason for this. It used to be just fitful sleep patterns with creepy dreams. Now it's goddamned insomnia. The house is too cold at that ime to get up and do anything, so I just burrow deeper under the covers and hope I'll be touched by the sandman again. Maybe it's an age or a guilt thing. Both seem to have me in their boney grip.
Oh well. In the meantime i guess we can just chat. Or I can chat and you can listen, to be more precise. I've been on a song writing frenzy. Now that I'm finally recording this album I can't slow down enough to settle on the tunes. Every time I think I've got the ones I want, i write another one that I think is much better. Once other musicians are involved it drives them nuts. Here. This is what i mean. I spent the afternoon running through all the selected tunes while my producer charted them. Then as soon as he left I started writing a new one. Then I went and had a little dinner with my brother and his wife, drove home in a snow storm and finished the new one. Now i KNOW this is better than all the other ones. I won't bore you with the lyrics. Just take my word for it.
Now that people are reading me again i feel a bit self conscious. I probably should have stayed in that dark closet but it's too late now. As you can see I'm struggling a bit over just how much to expose. I'm distracted. The one thing I DON"T want to do is be one of those bloggers who tell you what TV shows to watch or link you to some dogooder organisation or hype the newest ipod-blackberry-fuckwad gadget. I know. You already knew that. See. I'm not myself with this insomnia thing. Sleep was always something i could count on. What's next Viagra?
I was going to tell you a little more about Friendly and maybe even dip into my current mess of a so- called relationship but the callouses on my finger tips are tingling and I have to get back to the git. Little brother is still sitting there at the table, grinning that evil grin. I'll get back to him. We have time. I'll probably be up in the middle of the night again. This past week was the father of LSD Albert Hoffman's 100th birthday. Did i ever tell you about the time I got busted on the Palisade's Parkway with a pocket full of acid and Friendly in the car? Christ, let me sleep through the night. I promise I'll be clearer in the morning.