crack crack

I’m still awake.

In a few hours from now, I will be awake for more at least more than 24 hours already. I don’t really know for sure how many hours. That’s exactly what happens when you can’t sleep: you think you can think, but no, you don’t think. You just can’t.

And believe it or not, just one second after I posted my previous post about spammers, an Aaron Wakling (while I, I am Tintin Wakeling) posted a comment, immediately, saying that he has read a few of my other posts and found that my blog is interesting and will keep reading it, and that he has put an RSS bla on my bla bla, and I thought, gees, surveillance.

The thing is, this Aaron Wakling put his website address on the comment, which is called credit card articles (in one word) dot net. And it is just common sense that no one would be able to ‘read a few of your other posts’ in one second. That is just impossible.

So you haven’t been able to sleep for so many hours?

Yes.

How do you feel?

Unnn. I don’t really know. I found out that it is really easy for me to cry, like, just a few minutes ago, out of blank-brainness, I started reading an article about Obama on Jakarta Post. Right when it says that his father drank Bintang, I cried.

That’s peculiar.

I know.

Do you think that’s depression?

Gee. Hopefully not. ‘Cos you know what, I know this guy who in the past couldn’t sleep for a month or something, even with sleeping pills et cetera, and then he read something that says that sleeplessness could be a sign of depression. I’ll make the long story short and jump to the end: through some medical complications he finally suffers from manic depression.

By golly!

Exactly. See, when I was a child, being insomniac was quite annoying. Now, it’s not only annoying, it’s also frightening.

But that’s like a vicious circle, because the more frightened you are, the more you cannot sleep …

You can say that again.

Okay: but that’s like a vicious cir-
Thank you. Stop.

Anyway, yes. Exactly. Talking about fear, by the way, a few days ago I was staying at Jane and Davy’s and if we were not still awake then, the house would have burnt completely. It was because we were still awake, sleepy as Jane could be, that we realized there were something wrong when suddenly the electricity went off. Jane called her driver who lived just at the back of the house and discovered that there was fire in the garage.

It was quite scary.

Hmmm … maybe …

Exactly. Maybe that’s why I cannot sleep now. To continue a little bit: I’m now staying at Marie’s, and last night when I arrived home, everything was dark – the electricity went off! I think somehow my brain made the connection, and somehow it just doesn’t want to rest until it knows that everything’s gonna be okay.

But it’s impossible to ensure that everything’s gonna be okay …

I know. That’s why I need a boyfriend. Whenever I’m insomniac he could try to say it, again and again. And if my brain doesn’t believe it, he could say again, what, you don’t even believe your own boyfriend? I think that will work.

Smart.

The problem is, if he’s one that could say it again and again while I’m insomniac, he must be an insomniac too, then. Right?

Oh. True.

Which is another problem, because then his insomnia could eventually turn to manic depression, like that guy I know. Right?

Hm.

Anyway. I have to prepare works again now, can’t lose time with this stupid self-interview. Bye.

Bye. Have a good day, Tintin Wakeling.

Thanks. Same to you, Tintin Awakeling.

Williams Alfarouk from Sierra Leone has just spammed me an email.

He said that he’s writing me from Rep of Cote d’Ivoire where he has been taking refuge after the brutal war and Murder of his parents by the rebels during the renewed Fighting in his country Sierra Leone.

I think he’s offering me something like 20% of US$18,300,000.00.

Well, that’s a lot of money, paypal, but unfortunately, it’s your passport cover that I’m interested in, you know, for my art project, you know, a – r – t (which, as a footnote, doesn’t generate that much money, you know), not money.

And, unfortunately, paypal, I already have Ivory Coast and Sierra Leone.

Unlucky you.

-

It was 1995 and I was still sharing an apartment with Gob. One day I went home, opened the door and found her looking concerned.

I have a bad news to tell you, she said.

Oh. What is it?

She said, your relative, Bruce Ogilvy, died.

Look, I said. Did someone call and tell you this?

Yes.

Okay, Gob, I said. I don’t know anyone called Bruce Ogilvy, I said, and I know that someone has been calling and asking for Maria, saying that Bruce is sick. So now he died. I said. I really don’t know what to do.

I looked at her, and continued, but I am really not sad.

The spammer didn’t leave any phone number.

-

Life is strange.

But if it is not, a-r-t doesn’t make sense. Plus, you wouldn’t know what to do when you have insomnia.