Sleepless in... where was it again

These days I'm finding it hard to sleep. Or rather I'm finding it hard to drag myself to bed. Instead I sit up at night trying to take in every moment before 40 hits me like a steam-roller and, mixing metaphors, knocks the wind out of my sails.

Not that I've loved my 30s. They don't have the 'can't be knocked down' swagger of your 20s or the 'been there done that, about to do it again and with more elan' confidence that I'm hoping my 40s will bring.  I think that Elan should be the way forward for me... if I can pull it off.

But there's something melancholy about being up alone. The lig near silence (only the hum of the fridge and a dripping from the roof as today's rain finds its way back to ground keep me company) tends to make for movements that are lighter, more considered.

And still it comes. 40. Rolling toward me like the cloud racing up the beach on a sunny day. There's no way to stay ahead of it and no cure for the darkness into which it sends you. 40. And what? Now what? These aren't the questions that keep me awake, nothing keeps me awake but the desire not to go to sleep, to waste a night that others, somewhere, are savoring.

I like melancholy. That's a problem. Or it could be. But most of all I like the night. The darkness allows us to lower our masks and allow a different persona to emerge. I like myself at night. During the day I'm too busy being my day self to notice this, quieter person. And I don't write crap.

40. man.

Has it been that long?

t's been an age since my last post. I blame Pam. I've been traumatized by memories of her slow motion dancing, Shatner type girdle and 'better known for my lie down than my stand up' type lines for weeks now.

Luckily the summer is simmering along nicely, I have proposal after proposal after proposal to get out to people and there's enough on the horizon to make the haze of the desert bearable.

And then of course there are the festivals. They're everywhere. You can't move for the happy people buzzing along in street pedestrianized and wandered by drag queens. Drag is everywhere and happily it's Guy Pierce rather than Terence Stamp in flavor. Crude, over the top and quite, quite lovely.

Mind the free festival period is slowly coming to an end as the paid festivals (music mainly) start to take their place. This weekend was Oshega (Arcade Fire, Weezer, DEVO!, Keane?), the weekend before Heavy MTL (megadeath. slayer, korn, Alice Cooper?) and we have some very cool people filling up the evenings in the parks at things like Picnik Electronik (Justin Martin, Elite Force, Paul Ritch)...

So there's still time left for fun...

This is what my world looks like right now (well my evenings, the days are spent kicking myself into gear on the biz, but that's another post)