Sunday, October 27, 2013

Sleep, Lou Reed, and Nouns.

Today a friend wrote on my Facebook page, "What's the point of living?"

It was under a link from The New York Times, Lou Reed's obituary.

I had been asleep all day.  Literally.  I had clocked at least 19 hours of sleep between yesterday eve and that question.  Without Nyquil nor anything of the sort to spur me on.  And, though Depression is a friend of mine, I am pretty sure that this was not the sleep of avoiding life.  It was exhaustion.  Last week was a very rough week.  I'm not complaining, mind you.  It happens.  But I gotta say, last week, in retrospect, was a doozy.

At some point in the afternoon, I did wake and get up to feed the cats.  I also made a cup of coffee, kicked around on the Internet for a bit, and posted Lou Reed's obituary.  Before I had made it back to bed, I had seen my friend's question, and I responded with something like:  To create and/or support the creation of, and/or thriving existence of, awesome nouns.  People, places, things, animals, ideas, etc.

There was one more line, I think.  I don't remember it now.  And I can't reference it because I deleted it almost immediately.  It had occurred to me that "What's the point of living?" was maybe a Lou Reed reference I wasn't getting in my drowsiness.  I was going to ask my friend, but I just wanted to go back to bed, so I deleted it and... went back to bed.

I'm going to pay for this lost day.  There is much I wanted and needed to do today.  And I'm not talking the standard and usual weekend things like cleaning the sinks or day-trips to the beach.

But, for as much as I will pay, I wouldn't change it.  This was probably the only confluence of circumstances that would have led me to write what I did.  And for me, writing that, feels kind of huge.

Much of my life has felt like someone pulled me from a deep sleep at 2am, drove me to the home of a recently deceased a hoarder, and had me watch as they set it on fire.  Then they told me that what I want most for myself is in amongst the stuff and flames, strapped a headlamp to my forehead and shoved me toward the heat.  I know they're telling the truth, but I don't know what I'm trying to find, and so I hustle inside, stumble and fumble and search.

Now, after today, it feels like I know at least one thing.  I know why I live.

It may not sound like much, and it may only be part of the answer, but it's something.  A start.

Thanks Facebook friend.  Thanks Lou Reed.

Now, back to bed.