who'd've thunk it?

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This guy is mostly a better sleep aid for me than a chill pill. If I'm going to be able to sleep without a pill at all, Joe Rogan is the single most likely voice to make it happen. All I can say is it takes me back to my toddlertude and my dad's voice in the other room when I was in bed.

Men's voices, always it has to be men, and it has to be the stuff with minimal pressure of speech. Droning is okay, or narrating, or lecturing, but turns out conversations work the best, and not just any conversations, Joe's. This seems ludicrous to me, but it's the plain truth.

And I like it when he's talking with Eddie Bravo probably the best of all... also very strange, but in many ways the guy is a straight up hero.

Be all that as it may, there are times, like here in all this weather, when I start feeling really heavy and loopy and I don't want to get in bed and have my brain snap back on a couple minutes after I've done it, I put on some JRE action at the perfect volume to smooth out white noise and juuust loud enough that I can listen if I'm not sleeping, and if it's able to happen it happens.

Can't be too riveting.

Or I'm riveted instead of sleeping.

So early yesterday evening I was appalled to find myself really sleepy, and instead of doing the usual try-to-last-until-a-reasonable-bedtime-hour anxiety-fest, I just did it. Put on Joe with Greg Fitzsimmons, which would then transition to Joe with Ron White... six hours worth... and quickly was doing my blinking in and out snoozing and then waking myself up, snoring, and then turning over and getting seriously deeper in and out, dreaming this time that I'm chasing after Joe and a bunch of his comedian buddies to tell them something before they can get to the club and be all stupid with each other all night.

It's dark and I'm hurrying behind them, can feel my feet on the pavement as they've nearly disappeared into some bushes, when I again feel someone begin to clamp their arms around me, on top of me, in my bed.

The identical reaction to fright as ever in my entire life.

A split second of terror and then alert dead calm. As you know, this usually comes in the form of some lustful young maniac bounding through my house to leap in bed with me, or some monster bent on smothering me and I'm fighting paralysis. But this hasn't happened in quite a while... and this time my mother is poking through the curtain at me. She may be dying. Or dead.

I woke to the last third of Ron White at 1:30am. Okay. Tough shit. I'm fine. Whip on huuuge alpaca sweater, leggings and Emu boots, coffee, thyroid pill, cigarettes, world... laughing at Ron White standup... and processing the latest revolution in my consciousness.

Knowing I'm not going to be able to say it, but knowing it is right.

All the pain and all the love. Simultaneously.

It's so much work to get here... and then suddenly so easy it feels accidental... and you are not trapped in head trips anymore... you are the scariest kind of free you could never dream of....

pipe up any time....