Pre-Sleep Log No.1

Awake but not quite. My blackberry's blinking light. Red. Annoying. The clock ticks and I actually count. the 58th second of 23.00. I yawn--a big one. How to get to work tomorrow is what my mind is currently on about. Heavy breathing I can hear. not to surprise anyone, because it is my own. The same breathing I have carried all my life; too heavy, they say, for a girl. Now a woman (?). A dog barks outside, he is my neighbor's. Did I tell you I known not one of those living around me, despite having lived in the current house since I returned from the Philippines in 1994? For this I loathe Jakarta. I wonder why people are so cold, only to realize I have become so myself. A bajaj passes by the house. At this hour. Its vibration tickles my spine though only the sound of it. This particular public transportation has a way of leaving a mark in one's memory. I'm actually still in the Indian-print shirt I've been wearing all around all day. For some it would be intolerable to have day-worn clothes touch the covers they lie upon at night. I'm not one of those. I get too tired straightening up my own grammar to give a damn about mild threats.

Tonight I hope I dream of nothing. Dreaming drains the best of me.