sleep: not only for the weak

Taking in the Laundry
, painted steel, 140cm x 90cm, 2009, by Barcelona sculptor Frank Plant

Went for lunch with a game designer stranger I met on the bus today. It was a bit odd, trying to be social through a mad haze of sleeplessness with someone I’ve never met before, but it was nice, too, to know that even when I’m this wiped out, I can introduce myself with enough panache not to be immediately written off as a vaguely hyperactive nutcase.

The last few weeks have been deliciously fun, yet exhausting and murderous. CanSec leading into the Juno’s? I’m slaughtered, especially given as nothing’s let up. My planned sleepy Sunday, for instance. Lung called at noon, and even that was too early for me to want to wake up after the crazy open bar soiree at The Lift on Saturday evening. I had to, though, to make sure I made it out to Slickety Jim’s for brunch with Emerson. I would have died all over again if I had missed that. Then, banking on an energy drink to win over my four hours sleep, Lung and I went hiking around the Twilight filming at Whytecliff park out by Horseshoe Bay until it was time to drop me off back at Kingsway and Broadway to meet with David and Pia for a bit of birthday-ing on Main before heading over to the Batcave, a dirty whirlwind, to retrieve my hostage bikini, (a failed mission), and try to relieve Dragos of the last of the CanSec supplies, (also a fail, but less so). Given the party, I don’t think I would have made it home if it weren’t for a surprise ride home from Richard, for which I am so obscenely grateful I should give him a pie, (hear that Richard, a pie! E-mail me to collect!), but even so, I don’t think I got to bed until somewhere around the vicinity of two or three.

Given my plans for the next few weeks, I suspect most days are going to feel like that. Busy as busy can be while still having fun. Somewhere in there, I have to cram in more work on getting my computer back up, sifting through photos, and spending time writing. Tonight, somehow, I don’t seem to have plans, but mercy, I am sure by the time I get home that will have changed. It doesn’t rain but it pours.