sleeping, in the real sense of the word. in the sense i used to know of, and took for granted, my entire life prior to twelve months ago.
was complaining about this to friends -- eric, joel, vincent, lourd -- who probably couldn't have cared less. and i don't blame them, as they have found their own remedies for the same ailment. i thought that by speaking of it, blogging of it, i'd be cured of it. or, at the very least, they'd hand me a piece of the magical remedy. malas. none available.
they get it, don't get me wrong. husband weng gets it. (check his most recent blog post: reboot). but it's one of those things that we'd rather not talk about while enjoying real cold bottles of the cheapest beer in town, in a place which calls to mind a middle eastern romance (it's just along anonas road).
***
i just want to sleep. is all.
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2 comments:
remember that murakami story, about the woman who didn't sleep for months, and read so many books and swam so many laps without her family knowing? like leading a double life. i, on the other hand, sleep way too much, it's disturbing. wanna exchange maladies? hope you're well. :)
the city reader: yes, let's. exchange maladies, i mean. i'm fine with excessive sleeping. there isn't much to miss anyway. =) i am as well as can be. not bad, but could be better. i hope you're not doing too bad yourself. and that you're up on the good days. =)
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