Insomnia - The clash of words

Modifié le : 2019/08/05

Maybe it’s the humid­i­ty and heat, per­haps there will have been too much wine, maybe I’ve revised too much L’Ef­fet Casimir, a lit­tle bit of that. Sleep was not com­ing. My old text caus­es me some prob­lems. I am sur­prised that the pub­lish­er at the time allowed so many mis­takes to pass. It is true that in his very ear­ly pub­lish­ing days, he did every­thing by himself.

I am blind, I let myself be tak­en by his­to­ry, and my brain is a net with unequal and too wide mesh­es. Maybe it’s the impa­tience. Per­haps it’s the lam­en­ta­ble state, in the end, of what I think is my tal­ent. Maybe it’s just lousy reck­less­ness. Per­haps that’s all it is.

Last night, insom­nia looked like these sud­den ice jams that have titan­ic strength to stop things from hap­pen­ing. The riv­er ris­es with­out giv­ing the res­i­dents any chance, pan­ic seizes every­one, the uni­verse falls into chaos. My judg­ment stops, drowns, and I for­get that I have to sleep. The slight­est thought turns into trou­ble, the small­est non­sense requires a solu­tion before leav­ing me in peace. It’s the storm and the devastation.

Per­haps it is the shock of all these words, of what I want­ed to express, maybe it is this mir­ror of my thought that shows me as I am, an ambiva­lent being, who has remained to heal emo­tion­al scratch­es with­out con­se­quence as if I pre­ferred suf­fer­ing to wisdom.

Who knows ?

And then, what­ev­er. The wind this morn­ing is fore­cast­ing rain. The heat clamp will loosen. Tomor­row will be anoth­er day. Time, too, repeats itself, repeats the same things. Bis repeti­ta pla­cent. Peo­ple like repet­i­tive things. We can only sub­mit to it to fall asleep a lit­tle bit. Before we start walk­ing again.