insomnia...

i love to sleep. i have a knack for it even. i can sleep just about anywhere and have a preference for sleeping on the floor. but tonight i can't master it. so here i am. oh, and what should we talk about?

sometimes in grammar school a man with a guitar would come and we'd sing.

in 1814 we took a little trip/along with colonel jackson down the mighty mississip'...

or...

this land is your land/this land is my land/from california to the new york island...

or...

where oh where is dear little mary?/way down yonder in the paw-paw patch/come on boys and let's go find her...

this last one i hated. all of my classmates would turn and sing it to me. that's my name, you see. mary. like mary mary quite contrary. mary had a little lamb. mary mary why ya buggin'. the wind cries mary. oh, so we never actually sang those last two. but i've had them sung at me numerous times. and each singer supposed it was pretty dang original. anyway, we're on a first name basis now. and this is the part where the other kids go "ooooooooooooooooo..." meaningfully. mary's the name. don't wear it out. or wear it out, if you like. it could probably use a bit of wear.

so the guy with the guitar used to come and sing with us. interesting story about that guy. he used to be this very svelt man. then one year a drunk driver (in a big rig) hit him. he survived. but then he became quite rotund. and that made him jolly. so, in a way, i'm pretty pleased he was hit by a semi. i'm a terrible human being, i know. but a jolly guy with a guitar is swell, a thing of beauty.

i will try and sleep now. dream of fat men and guitars and music hour sing-alongs.