For whatever bizarre reason, I have not been feeling the least bit sleepy all night. I’ve actually been sitting up downstairs with the kid all night; my wife has an appointment with the doctor at entirely too early in the morning and needed to get a full night’s sleep, so the two of us have been hanging out while she sleeps upstairs.
Actually, the kid has been asleep pretty much all night. I changed his diaper and fed him about an hour and a half ago – before that he slept for about five hours straight, and he went right back to sleep as soon as I put him down.
So now it’s just after 4:20 a.m. and here I sit, wide awake. I’m been feeling loopy-tired all night, but not sleepy-tired. My current documenting of this crazy night for posterity is just the latest in series of brilliantly stupid ideas that have struck me this evening. At around 1:30 a.m., an inexorable urge to make chili swept over me, and I decided that I absolutely had to rifle through the kitchen cupboards to see if I had all the basic ingredients for starting up a six-quart crock pot full of the stuff. Never mind the fact that I knew I didn’t have any of the peppers, onions, tomatoes or fresh garlic I’d need; I wanted to know whether I had the necessary dried and/or canned beans to begin making it once I hit the grocery store for the other stuff. It turns out that I don’t. Why any of the aforementioned thought process I employed seemed logical to me at the time is beyond my ability to comprehend right now.
Tonight I have discovered some great music for sleepy babies to listen to, though. Paul Simon’s One-Trick Pony and The Early Years Volume One and The Early Years Volume Two by Tom Waits are great, mellow, late-night chill-out albums that seem to sit well with the kid. I think I’ll be playing them in his room on repeat overnight a lot once he moves into the nursery. Although I may be up shit creek if his first phrases wind up being things like “I stepped outside and smoked myself a jay” (from Paul Simon’s “Late in the Evening”) or “It looks like I’m up shit creek again” (from the Tom Waits song of the same title) as a result.
I’m amazed that I still have some grasp of grammar at this hour of the morning. It’s probably just a matter of time before anything I jot down devolves into loopy drivel; in fact, I can feel it coming on right now. There appear to be a couple of bouncers from the hypothalamus climbing the stairs to the front brain to throw out my sense of grammar. They’re dressed in black suits and sunglasses shouting something about how punctuation doesnt live here anymore and who needs apostrophes anyway and theres nothing like a good bloated run on sentence now and again because run on sentences can be lots of fun to write if only just to see where they go after looking back at them from the vantage point of where they started out from like going on a cruise from oh lets say Labrador with retrievers in tow to Trinidad and Tobago because you just cant forget about Tobago although everyone does its kind of like the Oates or Garfunkel of tiny countries I mean without Trinidad would Tobago have ever gotten any attention at all I kind of doubt it personally although Trinidad and Tobago is no Equatorial Guinea or Guinea-Bissau as far as countries go and there is no movie ever created that can really ever top Xanadu as a sheer artistic or is that atavistic triumph because who really wants to use sporks in a gourmet dining setting not me thats for sure it all comes down to the sporks man because the snark was a boojum you see.