matmenoney

Clearly I need an agent.

I was so exhausted last night, after pushing myself through hoops on five different jobs since the new year, that I just passed out. Though some might define it as sleep, I went down fighting all the way.

It's possible I'm a workaholic. A masochist by choice. And though I've yet to fully embrace the pleasures of self annihilation through full-on bondage; it's becoming clear to me I've got my vices. They just don't look as good as anything in leather or latex. In fact they look pretty respectable - like things so-called 'normal' people do. But the problem for me is that I do them in excess... clearly punishing myself for some past life horror. Either that, or I'm trying to run from death so fast I'm about to lap it - and who knows what happens when that occurs?

I'm guessing the Twin-Peaks descent into sureality is a precursor of what sleep deprevation over a sustained period might evolve into.... so far one month, I've had eight hours sleep just five times... usually its only four to five hours, but recently been doing a few two hour stints, and frankly David Lynch has been writing my script since....

Is that my hand on the keyboard or is it slab of crab meat?

And I'm suspecting the alarm clock hates me...