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Dean Whitbread 2013

Dean Whitbread 2020

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Written on July 21, 2004, and categorized as Secret and Invisible.
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You’d think that it would be great idea to write when you wake up at 3am and you can’t get back to sleep until 5 or 6am. But at that time of the morning my brain is like fudge, soft and gooey, and good only for chewing. What I need to be doing is dreaming, not staring at a computer screen. The last three nights I have been in the same pattern.. I get to sleep early enough, usually between 10.30 and 11pm, and then once the body has rested enough, up and awake comes the mind like an over eager puppy ready for a walk, or a senile old git thinking that night was morning, my sane mind deaf to it’s own protests of common sense telling myself I’ll be too tired in the morning to think straight and I need to sleep. Generally if I can’t get to sleep for 30 minutes I get up and watch tv or listen to music until I am tired again. It’s a stress thing.

My beautiful girlfriend has gone to Palestine for a month and I am very disturbed by this, beyond rational counter-measures. Anything I do to sleep will not work – exercise, meditate, drink warm milk, take pills… I just need to adjust. My love is in a fascist warzone. It’s not actually, it is occupied territory though, with checkpoints, bombs and unpredictable violence. I am scared and although the days are a model of coping the nights are revealing my true feelings.

SoI have decided to become a comedy turncoat and deny the splendour of Bill Hicks. I am aware that this is a pointless way of distracting myself – in fact Hicks is a comedy genius – but I like the concept of comedy betrayal so much that I will from now on make it known that he is like my mood – a raging uncontrollable mess of despondency. Bill Hicks – you suck. I’m glad you died. Take your sick ranting to hell with you. Give me back my dreams.

Maybe I will become a monk.

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