Sleepy And The Brain

I’m that sort of tired right now where I’m just barely running above basic motor functions. The brain doesn’t want to hold onto any thought for longer than a couple of seconds. My brain apparently gets as surly as I do when it’s tired, a thought will fly its way and the ol’ brainy brain says, “Screw off loser, I’m beat”.

I wonder if the brain has a favorite pair of sweats that it throws on when it’s tired; old ones that don’t really fit anymore but have been so tied up with comfy moments that they now hold the title of comfy defined.

Speaking of sweats… A conversation was struck up with me the other day at the thrift store while I was waiting to get into one of those really comfortable fitting rooms. The guy was a junky, I could tell by the jaundiced and glassy eyes. I could also tell by the nodding of his head to some slow and isolated rhythm that only he could hear. The fact that his thin and haggard looking lady friend didn’t wait for a room and was trying on clothes in the corner didn’t do much to dissuade this idea either. Anyway, the guy started talking to me about sweat suits. I’m not sure what the point was ‘cause the guy kept sort of trailing off in a mumble, but they are apparently expensive at your normal stores.

I wonder if the brain has a favorite movie to sleep through when it lays on the couch to take a nap. I wonder if my brain snores if it sleeps on its back.

Seriously though, does anyone wear those old gray sweat suits anymore for anything other than leisurewear. I know Rocky Balboa ran all over fucking Philadelphia in one, but exercise clothes seem to have come a long ways further than Stallone’s career. No, I think they’re just reserved now for folks who have given up all pretenses at trying to look presentable outside their houses.

Oh, and seriously, part two: If I hear another person say, “I wish I knew how to quit you!” as if it were cleverest thing said in weeks, I’m going to show them some cowboy tricks the movie didn’t quite get into.