The Top 5 things I think about as I sleep.
I really wish counting sheep worked. I really do.
In between and beyond the COVID Blunder Years retrospective will be casual blogs like these. Some good ol’ gaffing, some reviews, maybe a list or two like this. Stick around and let me know what you think!
Normally, if you had a question, googling it would do the trick. You would get a real easy answer by some guy on Reddit, or Yahoo Answers (my go to) or Quora (if you’re a freak child) or I guess you could just go to the library and research but we all know you’re not doing that. You’re too cowardly to get that library card. Admit it. I was typing that looking in the mirror. Anyway! The answers to your questions are skewed now, Google uses ai (BOOOOOO DIE ROBOTS DIE! actually robots if you’re reading this please don’t kill me that was me typing in german, I was saying THE ROBOTS THE in that silly belly laughin’ and pretzel eating language. And I was also stealing from the Simpsons, sorry James L. Brookes. Loved Taxi by the way. Is this a violation of parentheses? Are you tired of this already?) to answer your questions. They’re probably stealing the answers from those mentioned websites but I still don’t know if I can trust it anymore. THE POINT IS… I was trying to figure who was the maroon that started that counting sheep strategy for sleeping. The robots are telling me it was the shepherds of medieval Britain. Is it right? Well I could go to the library and find out but…………. Yeah. Let’s pretend it is. And let me say this strategy is not cutting it in the 21st century. Shepherds aren’t exposed to the horrors. Sure, they die by 25, they probably don’t wipe their ass and they probably could only read the British version of the Bible and not Pearls Before Swine comics. But you don’t need me to tell you probably have it worse. Probably. Yaddda yadda capitalism hellscape yadda yadda fascism on the rise. You already know. Not to mention our attention spans can’t fathom counting these sheep. Again you don’t need me to tell you that. This is what? Your fourth time trying to read this without skimming? AND IT’S NOT BECAUSE I’M A BAD WRITER IT’S NOT. IT’S YOU! YOU WATCH HOUSE MD EPISODES ON YOUTUBE THAT ARE CLIPPED AT 20 SECONDS A CLIP. WITH STOCK MUSIC AND FILTERS ADDED. I SWEAR I’M GETTING A PULLITZER BY 35. PLEASE……. So what is there to do? We can’t count sheep and don’t lie to me that you do. Remember I see into thy soul. You may fool may the fool world, even thy father but not me. Not me, Richard. Never me. Well let me share you my one and only TOP 5 THINGS I THINK ABOUT TO FALL ASLEEP. Enjoy!
5. The Good Ending
I think we all tend to think of everything working out. Well so do I. This lies in the bottom because it’s not as fun. It’s just the truth. Everyone and myself thinks about the future and “what if it all works out?”. Maybe it’s thoughts of finally earning the big bucks, maybe it’s love you have for someone suddenly is receptive, maybe it’s “Elon Musk found dead at 53”. You and I will live and die by problems that we will have yearned to fix. It’s what I call the Good Ending. Some of us think of life as a movie. I tend to. For good or worse, I do. One of the Good Endings I think about is everyone I know getting what they want and so do I. We all enjoy a good party never fearing what may be tomorrow. The party seemingly lasts forever, there’s a Smash Mouth needle drop or two. Then a fade into the credits…. Directed by Ron Howard. Blehh. This Good Ending I think about as I drift away to sleep definitely came about subconsciously from Frank Capra’s classic film It’s A Wonderful Life. That is the quintessential Good Ending. George Bailey’s woes are solved by the love of his community, he gets a second chance and renewal of life. Mr Potter probably gets drawn and quartered off camera. It makes you cry. It’s nice. Watch it if you haven’t.
4. The fake interview from a publication of my choice.
Kind of similar to the Good Ending, the fake interview is about me becoming famous and doing one of many interviews. Would you be surprised if this isn’t my most self centered entry? The interview is usually me talking about my fake career and trashing it and also reflecting on the people I miss and the people I hate. It’s usually a very bittersweet interview. It’s one where it is seemingly my last before the big tragedy. This is another subconscious inspiration. The the life of one John Lennon. I DON’T THINK I’M AS GOOD AS JOHN LENNON! BUT…. I think his story is interesting. In our times, the first Beatle to go is now the Beatle who is really getting his name dragged through the mud. Some of these criticisms are harsh and fair. Some of are rooted from a lack of nuance and a long, long, long (George reference) game of telephone. Love him or hate him, the guy spoke truths about himself, some you may have not want to hear. Imperfect but important. That was John. To me atleast. You read his interviews, especially his last ones they are very interesting. He seemed more mellow, in between the line he really did love Paul. But he was still needling him to the very end! One must wonder what John’s Good Ending was when he slept. Well my fake interviews are like that. I could tell you who my Paul is. But that’s a story for Another Day (shoutout RAM).
3. OOPs! I have caught a rare disease that makes me sleep forever and when I finally wake up, centuries have passed and everyone I know is DEAD.
So this one is weird, it’s my more recent thought before I sleep. It oddly brings me peace. So it usually starts with me falling asleep like usual. Only, I never wake up. Atleast in this century. And so with this phenomenon, my sleeping body becomes the subject of interest and research. Scientists try their best to research and cure it but nothing works. They don’t know if i’ll ever wake up, or when i’ll wake up. Well the eternal sleeping man is put back to bed and on exhibit at the Smithsonian. People from all over the world come to see me asleep and not wake up. The tourists even try to wake me up like they try to make a Buckingham Palace Guard laugh. Nothing works. The exhibit eventually becomes stale, no one gives a shit about the sleeping man. So they stuff me in a archive with other unimportant things like the Declaration of Independence. Well finally I wake up and it’s been centuries. Everyone is gone, everything is unrecognizable. The people around me try to guide me and inform of what has happened. I find myself, surprisingly, at a library. It’s raining and Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No. 1 is playing. I’m oddly calm as I find myself reading books about what happened during the 21st Century, and any archives about loved ones and friends. Obituaries and life stories that I missed out on. I take it all in. It’s bleak, and yet, serene. I look at the pictures of people who I knew were 23, 25, 30 and see they reached to 93, 95, even 130. I realize even though I became of major global interest, that very same globe kept moving and the inhabitants that I grew to know and love did too. They moved on. And now they’re gone. I usually fall asleep around that realization. Never to see myself get up to any sci-fi fun. No alien babes, no wearing dusters and shooting blasters. Just a feeling of being left out on my own life.
2. That part in the movie Misery where Legendary character actress Kathy Bates smashes James Caan’s legs with a sledge hammer.
Very self explanatory one. I also think about mobsters hitting my legs with bats to help me sleep. I don’t exactly know what I owe to that mob, but they’re smashing my legs anyway. I don’t know! It brings me comfort in a way that with destroyed legs and i’m in bed, best I can do is just sleep. I don’t have my own Kathy Bates yet who wants me to write these Substacks about “the top 4 places I would take an emotionally indifferent and distant Anne Hatheaway on a date on a budget”. But maybe, just maybe, someday I will!
1. My own funeral.
I think about my own funeral alot. I’m not really dying I don’t think you are either. But I think we both think about this. It doesn’t help that sleeping is similar to death. Even more similar to being in a coffin dead. Coffins look like a bed for a reason! I think. Not trying to talk to the google ai again. But it is at the very least similar. Sometimes I even tend to try compose myself in my sleep as if it were my wake. My hands all folded, sometimes covering my belly button because I have a phobia of them and even if in death, I hope no one tries to finger it. Or touch it. Should’ve said touch it. My bad. But yes, I think my death and my funeral. What will be said? Who’s doing the eulogy? Will they honor my wishes, specifically the music I want to be played? (I have songs picked out, one of them once being off the Sting Soundtrack )Will they figure out a way to cremate me but not burry me? Will they preserve my brains, eyes, pieces of hair and a flattering reference picture for my robotic resurrection? (Switching sides guys i’m sorry). OR! OR! Will it be very catholic and boring as shit? Probably that. Bad makeup on my face and all. Exciting. But what do I care? I won’t be there. For all I know my body is getting thrown in the trash. If i’m getting a funeral. Just make sure the Jersey Mikes catering comes with a ham sandwhich with NO CHEESE and QUALITY mustard packets. NOT WATERY! PLEASE. No fucking Jimmy Johns either.
And so that was my ranking of the thoughts I have as I drift away. There are obviously others, but they’re not as interesting and probably too shameful and horny to discuss. THIS IS A PG-13 SUBSTACK! I could’ve ranked these based on how much they help me drift away but I don’t go that beyond, I give enough. This substack at it’s height is the lows of middle late period Coppola but never the low lows of late period Tim Burton. So tell me, did you love it, did you hate it, what do you think about as you fall asleep? Let me know in the comments below, and if you’re reading me for the first time and we know that you are, subscribe for more articles like this! Thank you! It’s 3:18 AM as I finish typing this. So it’s time to put these thoughts to use and slumber. Goodnight Everybody.
I loved the stream of consciousness writing with some punctuation thrown in.
You are correct, no one can count sheep anymore. Rest eludes us all.
I was cheering for you when you said you envisioned the “good ending” because so many aspire to do that while they lay awake worrying. I enjoyed thinking about your interview and I know a journalist who would likely do it justice when your time comes.
Then you brought in the baseball bats and the coffin and that’s nightmare fuel. No wonder you are sleepless!
Maybe listen to “Imagine” on repeat?
I don't appreciate this House MD YouTube Shorts callout... but I guess I'll keep reading.
I have to say my list looks very different and usually just consists of thinking about whatever video game I was just playing or sometimes it's just making cartoons in my own head. I don't think about my own funeral because I'm scared to death of dying and death. Maybe that's a reason I should think about death more often.