Airport Jazz

listening to: babies crying, some airport jazz; July 27^th 5am California time, but 4:40 pm Singapore time; Singapore airport, waiting outside the actual waiting room; feeling: like I want to jump of a cliff

Sometimes at UCLA (which I really miss right now…) I’d reluctantly drag my eyes to the electric green stare of the digital clock above me and find the time 3 or 4 in the morning, looking punishingly back at me. Well I didn’t need that son of a gun timepiece to tell me what time it was. I could feel it. Half past three in the morning and my body became a battlefield on which my brain and my eyes were waging a war over whether to close and remain shut or glazed over yet still open as I pretended to actually be absorbing information. This is the hour,--I can’t sleep. —but I can’t stay awake... --! What a strange and uncomfortable feeling—in between being mercilessly stretched from both arms while at the same time being constrained in a small box made of elastic walls. I don’t mind being in between two emotional states. Most of the time we juggle plenty. But juggling the multiple physical states of 3 or 4 “in the morning”, with the darkness of the night, with my eyes wanting shut with my brain wanting open with my brain wanting shut with my eyes wanting open and the pencil in my hand but the slackness of my fingers and the pillow on my seat but the rigidity of my shoulders and the darkness of the night and the promise of the morning and my eyes wanting shut or did they want open - - - - !!!!

Damn.

So that's how I feel right now.

Oh Singapore. This will be a long night.