Showing posts with label sleeping picture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleeping picture. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

this is a litle tale about sleeping


once, long ago, a whirling bit of cosmic dust, an almighty deity, or some cosmic accident resulted in this thing we know as humanity. whatever our origin, us bipedal primates were designed to spend half of our lives sleeping.


indeed, the bed is the great equalizer; even honeymooners and dudes on death row must sleep.


finding this sleeping business a bit tedious (and an utter waste of time), beth, angie, and i planned our escape. we traveled deep into the sun soaked land of mexico.


once we reached the coastal village of yelapa, we sidestepped the bed bugs for an hour or so by joining a candle-lit dance party. the locals were a peculiar blend of hippee, tourist, and native, but the dj's fondness for cheesy eighties music made us retreat to our jungle bungalow.


and it was there that we succumbed to that inevitable sign of human weakness--we slept.


like any holy grail quest, our search was in most ways a failure. despite its two dollar margaritas, roaring iguanas, and tropical beach, yelapa could offer us no antidote to the night. still, our sleep was far from boring. as you may or may not have noticed, these beds are covered in netting AND, better yet, they hang: we were safe from all those nasty jungle critters while hanging suspended in mid-air. it was as if the bed itself was a physical representation of our sleep state; that night we hovered happily in our dreams. how can sleep get cooler than that?

(it can't.)

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. what if we're stuck in seattle? should we avoid the boredom of sleep and advocate our friends and roommates to do the same?

2. speaking of roommates, what is one to do if his (or her) roommate serves as a roadblock for this pursuit of waking life? for example, let's say that at 9pm someone intends to delay the call of sleep by watching a hit tv show (e.g., 24) with his girlfriend, but that his roommate says, "no, i have to work early in the morning; i'm going to bed now, and the tv is too loud." what should one do?

3. okay, okay. so assuming that one does the polite thing and lets his or her roommate drift safely to sleep, what if the roommate also says "yep, i've decided that i need more sleep, i'm gonna start going to bed about this time every night. maybe you could use the tv friday nights..." what now? sure, mark needs his sleep, but what about my right to occasionally watch a movie on my big screen tv?

(i was going to ask a sex question related to hanging beds, but then i remembered that i was annoyed about our small house, so alas, i asked no sex question. now it's too late.)

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

a pg-13 post [1.5]


[prologue to part two]
thank you everyone. your impatience for the conclusion of this posting has been like peanut butter gnutella for the ego. i don't mind if you spread it thick. still, i'm no charles dickens. i doubt i can handle the stress of writing serial posts like this. ironically, i am paralyzed by your great expectations (i couldn't resist). this condition is compounded by my general ineptitude for endings. don't believe me? check my computer; the final draft of my 2003 travel essay is saved as 'dumbest ending ever.'

sorry for this detour; i know that some of you are antsy to discover beth's fate--what ghostly specter haunts the corners of her mind? will she survive her encounter with the dumpy newspaper-strewn house that andrew calls home?--i understand your anxiety, but aren't you even a little bit curious about that dumb ending?


well, this blog is about me, and i was curious, so i double-clicked the document and scrolled quickly to page eleven. here are the final two sentences:

'like the old tortoise, i finally made it. i’ve been stumbling, bumbling, teetering, and generally miss-stepping from one place to the next, but despite rick steves and in spite of myself, here i am.'

sucky, right? this mawkish attempt at a conclusion is the result of more than a year's worth of brain kneading, or, to quote myself, a year's worth of 'stumbling, bumbling, teetering, and generally miss-stepping ' my way 'from one place to the next.' that's right!--you're witnessing an interactive epiphany--maybe my travel essay is really just a heroic similie, an extended metaphor for the creative process we call writing! though i long ago left this essay for dead, perhaps this emphasis could cause a wild transformation; perhaps there is yet hope for my endings...


(i thought this picture was fitting; i'm taking a break from my story, and wheelbarrow guy is just plain taking a break.)

andrew david 'siesta' yelapa, mexico.