Insomnia has been an ally/albatross since I was but a halfling. For the past year I’ve averaged about 12 hours of sleep a week, broken by binges in excess of 16 hours and droughts three days and longer with not so much as a snooze. The brain responds to this starvation by tickling the edges of psychosis while examining every color in my moody paintbox for evidence of inkblots. The words that emerge arrange themselves in unexpected patterns, and sometimes devolve into rants. I’m herding these independent outbursts together into something collection-like to agitate the veins in your own brains.
To be completed winter 2014.