Scrabbling

This week of leisure is beginning to get a bit boring. I think I spent so much time on my own, and in my own thoughts, over the past two years that sitting around now makes me worry about moving backwards. Not that you can actually move backwards when you’re sitting still, but I’m not talking about literal, physical movement anyway, so cut me some slack, Jack. Over Christmas, my sleep pattern started reverting back to ‘normal’ so I’ve decided to spend the rest of this week training myself back to overnight working mode. Last night I sat up with a pot of Colombian coffee and watched ‘Fight Club’ on DVD. Then I partook of some gentle masturbation before a 3am banana-and-cheese toastie and a solo game of Scrabble. It became an epic four-hour cut-and-thrust battle, with no holds barred and no quarter given (and all that other war-like speak they use when describing pointless sports events) and in the end I beat myself by 276 points to 211. A few of the words were a bit suspect towards the end, but isn’t that always the way with Scrabble?
Now I have a headache. Partly from the coffee; partly from the mental strain of playing a stupid board game in the middle of the night with myself as the opposition, and both sides wanting to win with the furious determination of Napoleon.
My life is becoming one of paid, intense insomnia. Which isn’t a bad thing, I suppose. At least I’m not a dustman or a choirboy or something.
Why do I always end up rambling when I haven’t slept?

RC 8-1-09
1701 GMT