The Fanstastic Ms. Fox

I'm not sure what's doing it - habit perhaps? But I am definitely sleeping better. It may be a lowered level of work stress. And, of course, a fine and lovely relationship ;) 

This said, I'm getting to bed a lot later. I *haven't* been hitting the gym as much, although I've been biking hither and yon and, of course, doing stage fighting. But when I sleep, I tend to stay that way.

Started taking a shower before bed. Feel a little grimy during the day, but I think I prefer it. Not sweating as much at night, likely due to wellbutrin.

Staying up late, even by half an hour is correlated with disruptive sleep, as is any amount of alcohol after 9:30pm. Cardio may or may not be a factor. Going to bed relaxed is a plus. It's hard to finish showing and then go to bed without finding a reason to look at a screen.

...to follow up on the last post

Most of the other deaths in my life were expected The second death was my paternal grandmonther, who'd been fighting with cancer, and so her death was no surprise. I don't remember why my mom went to the funeral and not myself. My Paternal grandfather died suddenly, but I made the trip and saw his body. My maternal grandfather was obviously anticipating dying when I went to see him last.  My maternal grandmother, who died last spring, was the fifth human death. She was ill first. I went to see her knowing that she was dying. I got there, and she died the next morning, then I saw her again. Animal deaths too. Rags, my dog died suddenly and painfully, but I was there when it happened.

The exception to this is the first death: that of my father. He killed himself with car exhaust. I think it was in my grandparents garage. It know it was on Easter weekend in 1987. On Sunday, two men came to the door, I don't remember any more than that. I was told that he died. My mother was concerned that if I saw the body, my nightmares (which often shifted into walking night terrors, would worsen). I agreed: nightmares needed to be managed. So I didn't see his body.

As a consequence, twenty Fathers Days later, I will have dreams where he's still alive. Unlike the other dreams with dead relatives, I can't say "Waitaminute, I saw you on your way out." With my father, there's an explanation: he faked his death and ran off, or I'd been chronically misinformed. In my sleep, I have no evidence to contradict.

I guess this is one of the reasons why you might want to see the body.

Hour of the Wolf

I thought naked apes went out in groups

in the day.

So, why are you up now, alone?

You heard her scratching outside.

You can feel her hungry eyes.

Is it your money she gnaws at?

Or is she tracking your love?

Or staring at that newly-found lump?

Or perhaps you're just shivering,

scented, someday prey.

You shouldn't be here,

but it's okay, we all are.

Welcome to this thing of ours,

a whisper club with a secret knock:

one minute, two minutes, three minutes, four.

Come here often?

Do you plan to stay?

You can, some, bitten, run with her,

live in this hour, to knock,

and do more than sit at doorsteps.

Soon the sun will come up

and the day will begin

but you'll still be here

unbaptized by sleep

a leftover from yesterday

You know it will end,

one way or the other.

Until then, you're here with us:

wading through your time

in the hour of the wolf.