i’ve just arrived back at my apartment after going over to shaun’s to read (cormac mccarthy’s all the pretty horses, a copy of which i managed to find without the annoying matt damon cover from the movie.  it’s a good book thus far.) and falling asleep for four hours.  i woke up intermittently, groggily noting shaun’s progress on captain gangbang, usually finding it hard to open my eyes or speak much except for once.

me: (mumbling) hey, shaun?
shaun: yes.
me: will you type something for me?
shaun: sure. (opens notepad)
me: um…
shaun: (types “um,” waits a few moments) …yes?
me: i forget. (falls back asleep)

it worries me that i don’t remember much of what i had wanted shaun to type for me, especially since this is not the first time i’ve been on the blurry edge of sleep and felt as though i was on the sharp edge of brilliance.  i frequently come up with good ideas when i’m half asleep, but i promptly lose them when i wake up the next day.  all that’s ever left is a confusing residue of something that may have been interesting, the whole of which has escaped my grasp.

i think this one was about wax moons and paper cupcake cups, though, so it probably wasn’t too genius.