12 Dec 2001, 2:02 AM — 2:54 AM. Written while chatting on ICQ
Late nights are the best time to get inspired. Somewhere around 2AM—4AM, you’re online, surfing aimlessly, chatting with your late night buddies who range from the deranged and sexually deprived, to those who are simply bored. It is at this point that your mental condition hovers between the fine lines of consciousness and sleep, where words pour out from your shrinking brain mass that is unable to cope with massive overdose of information that is normally stored within. You don’t need sugar, caffeine, or drugs at this point to get on a mental high. All you need is to close your eyes and imagine the muscles of your body succumbing to the arms of Morpheus — but just barely. It is at this point that you force yourself to keep awake: two paths are available to you to choose from: one, the comforts of dreamscape; two, the harsh, dreary environment of real-life. You choose the latter. When you make that choice, for some peculiar reason, everything around you becomes surreal.
