Insomnia Vol. II

I've been told before that I get too wrapped up in books. Maybe it's true, or maybe the books I read are so true that they become infectious. Either way, I can't sleep again. I had been doing pretty well for a while, on a regular sleep schedule. But I finally was able to get back to reading House of Leaves. It's haunting - far more than that even. It digs into the soul and itches and irritates and undermines the psyche. And the stress of the episode with the cops and school and now renewed insomnia... I think I'm hearing and seeing things. Remember my story about the wobbling walls? Well try this out: small spots of black or grey resting in the far edge of my vision until I choose to look at them; the sound of footsteps on concrete when I am alone in a carpeted building; warped vision and hearing. I haven't lost any time - I'm not so sleep deprived as to pass out - yet. These things aren't constant. I don't know whether to be thankful for that or not. I think, sometimes, that if it were a constant barrage of insanity I might be able to deal with it, but the timing of these events are just irregular enough to keep me on constant edge, fraying my nerves over and over and over. I've decided I'm going to resume meditations and cleansings - practices I dropped long ago as no longer necessary - in the manner of Konstantinos (though my own take on them). They helped once before when I felt haunted by some shadow of my own or another's invention, haunted then not by endless hallways blanketed in eternal darkness, but by irrational paranoia. I fucking hope this works again. I need sleep, and not the sleep I manage to steal now and again currently, filled with dreams of dark basements and room after room after room, gray and silent with no escape, but calm and restful sleep. I think maybe I am portraying myself as something of a basket case here, but I assure you anyone in my present state would be given to some amount of rambling. I mean it about the meditations and cleansings though. If they don't work, I don't know what else to do after. And just so we're clear, this isn't some DIY mental health edition mumbo jumbo (although I imagine more than a few of you will call it mumbo jumbo regardless). I guess for a lack of better words, I'd name it dabbling in the occult. Don't worry now, I'm not sacrificing children or animals or anything else. It's far more than that. It's opening the mind in connection with the spirit - something which can have incredible results depending on what you're wanting to do. However, relying on spirituality has been a last resort it seems, in my life, and I've been content with that and satisfied with that. But I've noticed that problems tend to crop up more and more and in greater magnitudes when I drop the shield of faith. And don't misconstrue that word, faith, now. I mean only a belief in my ability to change and affect the world around me through applied thought and feeling. Perhaps it could be compared to art without form, but still holding all the impact of emotion and intent.

For those who are unaware of Konstatinos, look here: http://konstantinos.com/aboutkonstantinos.htm
Even if you don't agree with it all, I feel that, like any philosopher, he raises ideas and questions that anyone can benefit from considering.

Meanwhile back at the point (is there a point?)... Kal seems to have taken the news (or rather recent lack of it) about the girl rather hard. I think perhaps we are influencing each other in our own neuroses, encouraging an arms race in insanity. Fucking hell I'm tired. I'm going to lie down now. I hope I can keep my eyes closed long enough to miss the sunrise.

-Michenab

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News

Attempted Kidnapper Arrested

I don't know if this has anything to with the rest of the stories I've seen, but at least I don't feel like I'm going crazy anymore. At least not as much. I've been reading House of Leaves and, combined with a lack of sleep, shit's been getting weird. For example, today I kind of zoned out while sitting on my bed. Pretty soon, I noticed the walls were wobbling. Of course they stopped when I focused my eyes back but I still was a little nervous for a second that the floor was going to drop away and eat me. It didn't help that this morning when I woke up I heard a loud, heavy bang, dull and powerful as if ancient gods were attempting to burst their way to freedom through my bedroom ceiling. Obviously Mr. Truant is having some kind of effect on my prose...

Guidelines for House of Leaves:
If you are prone to hallucinations (visual or aural), don't read it.
If you don't sleep much, don't read it.
If you are easily scared by mindfucks, don't read it.
Just in general, don't read it.

Not that it's bad. No, in fact it's great. A wonderful work of art. Just don't read it. It isn't worth the thoughts that leap out of your brain, wondering if there's some thing around the corner ready to envelop you in its ink dark embrace. I don't think I'll ever view basements the same way again.

But perhaps I'm overreacting. It is, after all, just a book. A book much like the House it contains. The House that it is. Full of branching hallways and dark, endless corridors that stretch through the imagination only to slam shut, ending the suspense with broken bones and a longing for answers to questions that were never asked - questions that were never found - questions that never were.

Not quite on topic, but I find it applicable.
odi et amo. quare id faciam fortasse requiris.
nescio. sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
-Catullus
But I refer not to a woman. No, not a woman, but the twisting, tortuous pathways of the mind, full of everything and yet empty and bare for their physical absence.

-Michenab

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