03 August 05

Humidity

Why can’t I sleep? Did someone sprinkle speed into this evening’s chow? Maybe the whirring of the fan is keeping me awake? Should I shove more wet tissue into my already blocked up earholes? Maybe I should change sleeping position? But I’ve changed position over and over for the past two hours – to no avail. Actually, my left arm does feel a little dead. Go on, move around one more time. Maybe it’ll work.

Why is my mind racing with trivialities? Who cares that you got bland navy beans for dinner when it was supposed to have been one of your favourite trays: veggie chillie. Who cares if you can’t make phone calls. T–Netix doesn’t give a damn. Who cares that your Investors Business Daily arrives a day late. You’re in T-town now, you’re on Tucson time.

Calm your mind. Stop thinking about silly things. Didn’t you just read Nietzsche’s words this evening, “The worst things…are the petty thoughts”? Endure gracefully like Nietzsche’s Ubermansch (Superman) would.

Why does the air feel as if it’s eating my skin? Why can I feel pimples erupting on my head and face? Why are my back hairs tickling me? I already tossed my cover sheet, which was cling wrapping sweat to my body. I’m so sick of scratching my clammy skin.

“It’s humid tonight,” mumbled Long Island who was also playing semi-naked Twister on his mattress.

Humidity! That’s it! Humidity has come to itch and scratch and nibble my skin, to make me rotate like a kebab, to bully me to make me stronger.

Now that I know my invisible enemy’s name, I can move on. Silence petty thoughts! Ponder only this mantra:

Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya
ZZZzzzzzzzz……


Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood


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