Sleepless Nights And Neon Lights.

I stand up and walk out of my room. I stare out the window. I get back into bed. I plug in my earpiece and try to sleep. Again. I don't. I stand up and walk out of my room. I switch on the tv. Gameshow. I switch it off. I stare out the window. I lie on my bed. I still don't sleep. I hear the passage of cars in the distance. Zoooooom. I am not asleep. I stare at my phone. The time. Nobody attempted to contact me.

I go out. Down 8 stories, I head out into the streets. All those garish neon lights beckoning me with their unholy allure. All that sleaze and grime. A few bucks for some loving. Sounds like a steal. I enter.

I leave. I decide, that isn't love. That's business. A mere transaction.

I walk on. And still, the neon lights like siren song, calling out. Wanton displays of flesh. No thank you, I've had my share for tonight. Instant gratification of all forms, if I would only part with my money? I am tempted. I am repulsed. To lose myself in debauchery. I ponder for a moment. No, I don't think I'd like that. I decline.

I go back home. I try to sleep. I don't. I can still see those neon lights. I stare at the ceiling. I hear the drone of the fan. Whirrrrrrrrrrrr.

----------------------------------------------------

I couldn't sleep last night and I was restlessly pacing around the house. Newspapers, tv, staring out the window. I didn't want to use the comp though. I was thinking of a cool phrase to accompany Sleepless Nights and I came up with Neon Lights, thus the story. It could have been Sights or Frights or any other word. I guess the story would be pretty different if I had blogged last night instead of tonight. That's what I like about stories, and words. The infinite variants.

I don't normally like to talk about stories much. Every story has a different meaning to everybody, holds a different truth. Same for movies. Sure, I can wax lyrical about them, but deep down, what it is that makes it tick isn't the same for you and me. Although it is interesting to observe what different people take away from their viewings. And to listen to their interpretations of it. That is if you have an open mind and aren't pissed of by every contrarian notion you see (although sometimes those who are different merely for the sake of being different are quite irksome.)

Anyway I think the story is about how easy it is to lose yourself (well, to me that is). It really is easy. There are times when you've lost yourself in a brief moment of insanity (or clarity,) and times when you wish you had. It's about those days when you stay awake at night. And everything seems to be so meaningless. Those days where you wake up and everything is so dreary and you're listless all day and so indifferent to it all. It's about a lonely person and how nobody cares for what he does. It's about how people set out to buy love but never obtain it. And it's about how some things get a hold on your mind and never release it. It could be something you've done, or wish you'd done. Or it could be someone.

In the course of writing the story I somehow had the thought that a whorehouse is like a charnel house. The people inside, they're all dead. I'm not one to pass judgment, there could be circumstances which happen to set them on their path, but I just think it's sad how the most intimate form of human contact is reduced to nothing but a business transaction. I can't imagine that a person can still truly be alive after that. You've got to have life to be alive. If the meaning of life is just to get by, to live another day, then I'm sorry for you, cause life means so much more to me.

Well, so much for not talking about stories. Anyway I finally drifted off to sleep last night and woke up 3 hours later to go for 1st service. I wish I'd slept for 2 and a half hours instead. I was late by 30 minutes for service and missed praise and worship. Darlene Zschech led worship today so I can't believe I missed it. But service was pretty good and quite pertinent.

One passage that struck me was this, Hebrews 4:15-16

For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

I was pretty disappointed when I thought that District 9 wasn't showing anymore more but lo and behold, it still is. That was just a one day exception apparently. What a scare. I'm also going to watch Moon. It's amazing how many times I've broken promises to myself. One that I haven't broken yet though, is the one to not read anymore novels. I was sorely tested the other day when I went into the westmall library. Puny and laughable though the collection there is, I found 2 books that I wanted to borrow. I even took them and was heading to the machines when the voice in my head said, NO! I complied and here I am, spending every sleepless night using the comp instead of reading myself to sleep.

I also had a haircut. Unfortunately. My sister said I look like GI Joe. I guess that's what I get for complaining about Channing Tatum's ears. It's a really horrible mistake, seriously. My brother remarked that I don't have hair, I have a cliff. If you see it you'll understand. Oh man.

So it's 7.30am already. I've been up since 3.30 after sleeping at 8. I wonder if I'll study later, since my haircut is going to subject me to much mockery. Or I could stay at home and watch Mr. Patrick Jane at work in the Mentalist. Good show, that. Almost done with the whole season despite starting only on friday. Or I could dota. Or I could watch a movie later. Tempting, that.

Alright, that's that then.