Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Sing Me To Sleep

I woke up at 2AM without a warning barrier of soft sleepiness out to the cold world of late night city sounds. I was just sleeping one moment and then I wasn't. I went into the bathroom and did my business, and then half-heartedly searched the mirror for facial blemishes.

It was about that point that I realized I was awake awake. I wasn't feeling that sort of holding on to sleepiness and stumbling around the bathroom, there was a finality to feeling tired, like sleep was done.

I thought about just staying awake until I had to go to work; maybe heading over to the table to read a book while the rest of the apartment, the rest of the building, most of the city slept. I get this comfortable, almost nostalgic, feeling when I think about sitting at a table with a hot cup of coffee and a book during those dark, early hours.

And then I thought about getting in the car and driving around the city. Another of my favorite pastimes is cruising around a cityscape in the dark; or the dark just beginning to be bruised by gray light. I like the illusion of being alone in an urban setting, cruising past enormous and darkened buildings as if they were slumbering giants. I like getting into the smaller and industrial parts of town, seeing the buildings shaped by a light that I don't tend to see them in, the glaring mercury and neon light sculpting metal shadows. And all the while, there’s that perfect night driving music all around me.

I began thinking about driving a child around in the wee early hours, showing them those near dark sights that move me for whatever personal reasons; the glowing red sign that says "LIGHTING" up on Jackson and 2nd that just sings in that pre-dawn dark, all that old and dark brick in Pioneer Square, the mountains seeming to spark the sky alight when you see them from the top of Capitol Hill.

And I thought about them telling me what was making their eyes go wide on our way to pick up some breakfast...

I went back to bed and lay there taking in the random neighborhood noise that never seems to fully go away and I followed my fractal thoughts down into that tunnel of sleep, the whole time a little wary at the lack of frustration of being awake.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

S'nice, Billy.

Anonymous said...

kidnapping a child, huh?