Kafka’s Vigil

What a night. What a day. The bed bugs started biting again last night, and I just could not get off to sleep. So, instead of succumbing to a night of useless thrashing around in bed, grinding my teeth, and yelling at the apparitions who will not leave me alone, I decided to get up and do the next day’s work. I eventually got into bed around six, had a few hours sleep, got up, went for a jog to try and clear my lungs, came back and wrote this poem about insomnia. You can read it here. I am so impressed with my own hardiness that I am seriously considering joining the marines. I am sure I can romp and kick arse with the best of them. After I’ve had my afternoon nap, that is. Good night.

Turn it off

Hmm, I think I’ll scratch this week if I can. I wanted to do loads of things, all of which I couldn’t manage. What did I want to do this week? I wanted to go jogging. I wanted to test the new swine inoculation for the good of mankind. I wanted to write masses of startling poetry, ensuring my breakthrough into world literature. I wanted to finish my short story. I wanted to bring my accounts up to date. I wanted to cancel all my useless but expensive policies and clubs. I wanted to go to the pictures to see a film before it’s out on DVD. I wanted to meet up with some ex-colleagues and eat sushi with them. I wanted to buy a present for my well deserving nephew. In other words, I wanted to have a nice full, productive week.

And what did I end up with. Insomnia, that’s what. At the beginning of the week I went to the doctor for a check-up before the inoculation, only to be informed that I was in no fit state for such a brave undertaking, and that I am suffering from a (life threatening) dust allergy, which has to be dealt with first, and promptly puts me on steroids. Welcome to the world of body builders and weightlifters. A world of wandering between sleeplessness and madness, wild dreams and paranoia. And you can’t just stop taking the course, oh no, you have to slowly reduce. On the positive side I suppose I am breathing again. Sleep will have to wait till next week.

Oh, and my wife has gone on strike due to exhaustion.

Anyway, this put paid to all my good intentions for this week. I did write a poem about insomnia, but it was just a piece of  tired drivel, so I’m not going to put it up until I’ve improved it. Not wanting to leave you all in the lurch, I did manage a bit of flash fiction. You can read it here.

Other people have been much more productive this week. People like my good friend Clemens Krallmann and his band Golden Tone Radio. Here’s a little taste of them live in action, in Hamburg: