Bock bock bock

I had a lovely conversation with Windrose, and watched the 'verdict' episode of Veronica Mars. And then there was Adult Swim. Family Guy was on, and that was okay. Then Robot Chicken, and that could have been worse. Metalocalypse, which I will not make an effort to watch again. Squidbillies, which was pointless. And Minoriteam, which actually caused me to lose brain matter. Tom Goes to the Mayor is next, and I'll continue to sit here despite the severe haemorraghing that is bound to result. Because I'm too tired to get off the couch. Sometimes I get the impression that I really don't like me.

I don't sleep so I don't dream so I don't wake up frightened

The past two weeks I've been sleeping for crap, when I sleep. I'd really like it to stop now. I mean, if it were a typical manic surge, then I could be doing stuff while I stayed up until four thirty in the morning. I could rip CDs, or do dishes, or finish laundry, or get some reading done, or any number of productive projects. But I don't get typical manic surges. While I am not sleepy, I am fucking *exhausted*. The brain functions at a minimal level, and only my firm grasp on the scruff of language's neck allows me to communicate in a reasonable fashion. The only time I appear to actually be sleepy is when it's amazingly inconvenient to functioning, or to maintaining the sleep schedule required to do my job. My body aches, and it does not make me less irritable. I fuss about finances, and about my incredible lack of a path of progress in my work-related life, in useless self-defeating circles. In fact, I think that the key to the whole of the past two weeks is 'downward spiral feedback cycle'. Which is bullshit and needs to stop.