Confessions of a Professional Insomniac: The Blog

Los Angeles [2:30 a.m.]

I’ve been a professional insomniac for as long as I can remember. Of course, when you’ve been sleep deprived for as long as I have, it’s a wonder I can remember much of anything at all, the cumulative effect of prolonged sleep deprivation being the eventual erasure of all memory, both short term AND long term! (Okay, maybe I’m making THAT up, but it sounds good.)

From what I can recall, my career as a professional insomniac apparently had its roots very early on in my life. In fact, I have a fleeting memory of myself as a very small child, lying in bed eyes wide open, staring unblinkingly into the dark until colors and kaleidoscopic shapes would appear before me! Why I did this is anyone’s guess. I’m not sure if I was afraid of sleep, or afraid of the dark – perhaps it was a little of both. Maybe, too, I was merely a wee bit unhinged!

Over the years, I’ve considered many antidotes, remedies, or placebos. I say “considered” because, if the truth be told, I haven’t actually tried many – oh, did I say “many”?! I meant to say “ANY”! I did recently have a very brief flirtation with the idea of maybe trying a prescription sleep aid. Along these lines, I’d heard of something called “Ambien”. Prudent insomniac that I am, I figured I should first check out the relative side effects (“diarrhea; dizziness; drowsiness (including daytime drowsiness); ‘drugged’ feeling; dry mouth; headache; nausea; nose or throat irritation; sluggishness; stomach upset…”). Since I figure I can easily get these particular ailments WITHOUT the help of Ambien, I’ve decided to forego its usage. Besides which, I already experience “daytime drowsiness” from lack of sleep so why should I take a SLEEP AID to get the same effect?!

Some caring friends will now and again propose various sleep-aid suggestions (e.g., “just lie there, empty your mind and try not to think of anything…”) and my friend, Jeremy recently suggested I try counting the CAT (as opposed to ‘counting sheep’), so I dutifully counted the number of times the cat jumped on and off the bed -- “1, 1, 1, 0, 0, 0, 1…” Other than giving the appearance of speaking in BINARY CODE, nothing happened, save that the CAT got very bored and left me to pursue more interesting catty endeavors, and I still didn’t sleep (thanks though, Jeremy – I appreciate the thought, no matter how mental).

But don’t feel too badly for me – I’m comforted by the knowledge that there exist legions of similarly afflicted kindred spirits somewhere out there, pacing the carpet, staring at the TV, or surfing the Internet into the wee hours. In fact, looking on the bright side, no matter how late I happen to be up, there’s always someone else awake on some other part of the globe (of course, they’re probably also in a completely different TIME ZONE!) so I know I’m never really alone, which is a comforting thought. In closing, to those of you who DO sleep, I say “sweet dreams” and to all the others I say, welcome to the club and since I’m presently writing this in the wee small hours, I’ll see you shortly -- and we’ll sleep … eventually.

Why Mother Goose Rhymes Are Insidious!

Most of us have at least a marginal familiarity with the Mother Goose rhymes of our childhood. Since my enforced term of “unemployment” two months ago, in an effort to stave off the boredom threatening to engulf me on a daily basis, I’ve taken to delving into anything and everything that strikes my fancy. For some reason, I am now engrossed in reviewing the above mentioned “rhymes”.

“A cat came fiddling out of a barn,
With a pair of bagpipes under her arm…”

WHAT??!! OKAY, now THIS is just plain AMBIGUOUS!! Is the “cat” a “FIDDLER” or is this alleged “cat” a “BAGPIPER”?!! WE DON'T KNOW, thus casting the reader into a roiling PIT of doubt, chaos and turmoil!

“As round as an apple,
As deep as a cup,
All the king's horses
Can't pull it up.”

Blatant sexual innuendo, wouldn’t you say?!!

“As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives…”

FLAGRANT endorsement of POLYGAMY!!

“Cobbler, cobbler, mend my shoe,
Give it a stitch and that will do…”

“Little Betty Blue
Lost her holiday shoe…”

“Cock-a-doodle-doo! My dame has lost her shoe…”

“One, two, Buckle my shoe…”

ad nauseam, ad infinitum…..]

Blatant “FOOT FETISHISM”!!

AND I continue…

“Cushy cow bonny, let down thy milk,
And I will give thee a gown of silk…”

PROSTITUTION!!!

“Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown,
Rapping at the window, crying through the lock,
’Are the children in their beds, for now it's eight o'clock?’"

This “Winkie” character is not only a lunatic EXHIBITIONIST, but more than likely also a PEDOPHILE!! (Of course, with a surname like “Winkie”, small wonder he’s doesn’t have all his OARS in the WATER)!

“Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see an old lady upon a white horse;
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
And so she makes music wherever she goes.”

I won’t even BEGIN attempting to dissect THAT little gem as it’s so RIFE with ALL MANNER of innuendo and incongruity that my mind REELS!!

I could go on, but I am presently so overwhelmed by shock and disbelief that I must end here. Of course, feel free to continue your own research and draw your own conclusions; however, my caveat: THE READER BEWARE!

THOUGHTS & SONGS -- I'M NOT ALWAYS FUNNY

This past Wednesday, August 19th, part of my Celtic band and I decided to take our usual Wednesday night rehearsal in the studio outdoors in the daylight hours and this being Southern California, what better place to be than at the beach! This in mind, we congregated at the usual studio location near L.A. International Airport and then carpooled down to the Port of Long Beach. We eventually set up our gear near the Belmont Shores Pier and proceeded to play music.

After about an hour or two, I noticed, just outside of my field of vision, a weathered, scruffy, bearded man grasping a rolled up blue sleeping bag and a small, dark-colored canvas sack. He appeared to be dressed in a jacket inappropriately warm for the sunny beach weather, a cap pulled down over his graying hair, who, with eyes closed, was listening to us intently. On closer scrutiny, and judging by his puffy, flushed complexion, it was evident he grappled with a serious daily alcohol abuse problem; however, he wasn’t completely grubby and he may have been younger than he looked – it was hard to tell.

After about 15 or 20 minutes he moved closer -- until he was about 12 feet away. We started playing again and he stood as near to us as he dared. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, he began singing out loud in a relatively clear voice – not OUR words but HIS words -- but it was our melody. If the truth be told, it wasn’t half bad! Our lead singer, however, got slightly peeved and told the man to stop singing and said, “Could you please stop?! We’re trying to play here!” The man began to cry and slowly walked away and as he was leaving he said, “But I thought that’s what music was all about!”

The lead singer, not meaning to have come off so harshly, then told the man he was welcome to listen. The man slowly walked back to us and proceeded to sit in our midst on the cement, listening with a faint smile and moist eyes. We eventually took another break and the guitar player gave him a few of her cigarettes. The man (who by this time had told us his name was “Ronnie James”) began talking to the guitar player, all the while longingly eyeing her guitar and, tears again welling up in his eyes, he told her that he used to play guitar and sing. She asked him, “When’s the last time you touched a guitar, Ronnie?” He said, “About a year ago – I had to pawn mine,” his gaze melting inward and into the distance.

He left shortly thereafter, with his few belongings and a few cigarettes in hand, but before leaving, he attempted to hug and kiss each of us. I inadvertently recoiled when he tried to hug me and, instead, reluctantly extended my hand, not a proud moment for me but human nature I suppose. Thereafter I was inspired to write a song about him and, being a lyricist, wrote the following lyrics – the music’s in the process of being composed…

This is for you, Ronnie James, and all the “Ronnie Jameses” out there. Keep the music in your heart!





Shadow Man/The Ballad of Ronnie James © Lyric by Myrna Neuberg –
21 August 2009

You pass him on the street - he smiles -
You turn and walk away,
Because he’s just a shadow man
That’s all he is today.
He said he had a good guitar
And he could really play
But now he’s just a shadow man
To scorn and throw away.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Maybe kin of Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
You’re all that’s left of Ronnie James
You didn’t know how far it was you’d fall.

It’s been a long and twisted road
It’s been a long way down
Just try to keep on breathing
As you walk the streets of town.
You said you’d had a good guitar
Yes, you could really play.
But you’ve become a shadow man
To scorn and throw away.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Maybe kin of Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
You’re all that’s left of Ronnie James
You didn’t know how far it was you’d fall.

You pawned your old guitar you said
About a year ago
Or maybe it’s been longer
You really didn’t know.
But you’ve still got a song inside
And tried to sing along
Just making up your own words
‘Cause you didn’t know our song.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Looking just like Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Where are the dreams of Ronnie James?
You never dreamed how far it was you’d fall.

Bridge
But hold on to that song inside
‘Cause music was your joy and pride
You said you picked a mean guitar like me.
Before you walk that final line
Remember that you’ve still got time
There is a way; it’s just that you can’t see.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Looking just like Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Where are the dreams of Ronnie James?
You never dreamed how far it was you’d fall.

THE CAT DID IT!

After a protracted absence from this, my sorry blog (place the blame, if you will, on a serious case of “blogger’s block”), I thought it high time that I write something, ANYTHING, to prevent my brain from atrophying further. So, before my brain shrinks to the size of a walnut and rattles around in my head, I present … “something”!

I had initially planned this blog to be an intellectual treatise on the stupidity of weight loss products that really don’t do anything (i.e., “carb blockers” and/or other pills that allegedly cause weight loss without your ever changing either your diet, or getting your sorry fat butt off the couch!?!) I say if these things actually WORKED, everyone would be skinny, right? So to hell with that topic! In my present cynical state, I simply propose the prodigious use of duct tape over the mouth, thus preventing the introduction of any food into the oral orifice – thus cutting down on the amount of food consumed – ergo, less caloric intake and, finally, TA DA!! WEIGHT LOSS! It’s cheap, effective, and costs a hell of a lot less than either lap band surgery or any of those overly expensive, highly touted weight loss products!!

So, enough about that and on to a NEW topic, namely, the accidental, unintentional sending of incomplete, idiotic and/or un-essential “shite” e-mail or Twitter tweets caused by careless placement of an object [usually one’s own finger] on the mouse – also known as “THE CAT DID IT!”

No one wants to feel like a complete idiot following the inadvertent sending of some type of garbled mess so why not place the blame on a hapless, loyal PET who can’t possibly defend either himself or herself (or, if the truth be told, who could really give a shit) which, in my case is THE CAT! Therefore, if I’ve sent you a stupid e-mail or tweeted a garbled and/or incomplete tweet, sorry, but THE CAT DID IT! I wasn’t even in the room, much less near the computer and yes, he CAN, in fact, type really well … okay, reasonably well… okay, not at all and I’M really to blame! (Are you HAPPY now?!!! Jeez… )

NOTE: Use of duct tape on THE CAT is neither condoned nor recommended. Your cooperation will be appreciated. Yours sincerely, “THE CAT”

"IFFY" COOKBOOK TITLES

Okay, I haven't posted anything here for what seems like years but which is, in actuality, only WEEKS! Anyhow, since my brain hurts from too much paperwork yesterday, I am not taxing the old grey matter too much.

So, without further ado, I present, for your consideration, delectation, and comment, a few titles of cookbooks you may NOT want to cook from!

[Drum roll please..................]

• The Guesswork Gourmet
• A Pinch of This, and … Whatever…
• Fun with Gum
• Blue Plate Special? Or Merely Mold?
• Cauldron Classics: Old Salem’s Best
• Hints from Hades' Kitchen
• 101 Greasy Spoon Favorites
• Back Yard Game Cookery
• Rodents I have Known and Loved
• Of Mice and Men
• War and Peas
• Arachnid Cookery
• Psychotropic Slow Cookery
• Great Poisons of the World
• Toadstool Cuisine
• After-Dinner Antidotes

[And my favorite …....]

• You Were What You Ate!

“Have You Seen My Coffee Cup? Or, “LOST: My Marbles! REWARD if found.”

The other day, much to my chagrin, I once again “misplaced” my oft-lost coffee cup. Now this wouldn’t be so bad if I lived in some palatial multi-room mansion, but my house, being somewhat small, doesn’t have that many rooms within which to “lose” ANYTHING!

Since I adamantly refuse to admit to anything akin to age-related memory loss, I prefer to believe that this particular coffee cup has simply sprouted LEGS and developed the uncanny ability of maneuvering independently [I have this “favorite cup,” but never mind, I’ll write about this predilection some other time]. I have also conveniently “explained” this frequent “coffee-cup-loss-in-tiny-house scenario” to myself, and others, as either “poltergeist activity” or “The CAT did it”!

Admittedly I’m also prone to sometimes walking into a room, freezing mid-step and asking out loud, “Now WHY the hell did I come IN here??!” or walking up to someone to start a conversation and standing there blankly saying, “Oh shit, I forgot what I was going to say! What were we talking about?!” [Or variation of theme: “What the hell was I talking about?”] The resultant response to this question is usually a blank stare and “Hell if I know!” Of course, misery loves company so I immediately read into THEIR response, “Oh good! They’ve got it too! Thank god, I’m not alone!” Most likely, however, they really have no idea what I was going to say (and why should they?) but I’m inventive in my efforts of self-deception.

If this isn’t bad enough, my keys frequently come up “missing” and I now have about six or seven “spare sets” floating around somewhere (?) in the above-mentioned tiny house. Hell, if I didn’t do this, I’d never be able to leave the house, much less DRIVE anywhere! The “up” side, though, is that the key maker and I are now on a first-name basis and I will usually locate at least ONE of these key sets without too much difficulty and stress, thus averting an otherwise forced, involuntary “housebound’ness”.

My brother [supportive soul that he is] has laughingly “explained” my “forgetfulness” with the simple words, “you’re getting ‘old’ and losing your mind!” I would tell you what I then replied but I’m trying to keep this clean, and anyway, I don’t really remember what I said to him.

I wish I were making this all up but unfortunately it’s all sad but true, and I’d probably write a longer blog but I forgot what the hell I was talking about!

Now where was I?

Order One Thing Online and You're Marked for Life or, "HOLY CATS, BATMAN!"

Another rant about online shopping…

A few months ago, in another insomniac-fueled fit of consumer weakness, I ordered a “cat design” tote bag from some online store. At the time it seemed rather cute so I justified the purchase by convincing myself that I “could always use a good tote” and “besides, it kinda looks like MY cat” – which, as we all know, is ALWAYS a good reason to do just about anything (okay, maybe not).

A little less than a week later, I received the tote bag – cute enough I suppose though, admittedly, a little embarrassing to carry around, and I haven’t really used it much. Okay, I actually don’t use it at ALL and for the past few months, the bag’s been gathering dust on a closet shelf, BUT for what it’s worth, the design really does [kinda] LOOK like MY CAT!

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, MARKED for LIFE.

To continue, since receiving the TOTE BAG, I’ve been barraged by a virtual onslaught of unsolicited e-mails offering me a seemingly endless array of “matching” items, which list, so far, includes:

1. The matching CAT PURSE – the smaller, more compact version of the above-described CAT TOTE [to compound the “humiliation factor,” you can carry BOTH at the same time and look REALLY crazy!];

2. The matching CAT WALLET [to carry in either the cat tote OR cat purse!];

3. The matching CAT CHECKBOOK;

4. The matching CAT BANK CHECKS [no big surprise there];

5. The matching CAT DESK LAMP [no doubt, to illuminate my late-night check writing forays using “Item 4” above];

6. The matching CAT MUSIC BOX [I think it plays the theme from “CATS”];

7. The matching CAT CUCKOO CLOCK [not sure I get that ,“cats” and “cuckoos” being totally disparate species];

8. The matching CAT WIND CHIMES [as if I don’t have ENOUGH problems falling asleep at night!];

9. The matching CAT EARRINGS and PENDANT SET [oh JOY!];

10. The matching CAT CHARM BRACELET [with an impressive 33 charms no less];

11. The matching CAT COLLECTOR PLATES [helpful to throw at that Cat Cuckoo Clock when the “cuckooing” becomes too much to take!];

12. The matching CAT FLEECE JACKET;

13. The matching CAT FLEECE VEST [for those with a SLEEVE AVERSION – see “Item 12” above];

14. The matching CAT ROBE; and

15. The matching CATS PAJAMAS [lovely to pair with Item 14 above].


[NOTE: I only admit the following in the hope that some kindly soul might orchestrate an “intervention” on my behalf…]

Okay, getting back to those “cats pajamas” – I may actually order these, if only for the reason that if someone should say to me, “that’s the ‘CAT’S PAJAMAS’,” I could turn around and smugly reply, “No, THESE are the CATS’ PAJAMAS!” and of course, I wouldn’t be wrong.

Obviously, by virtue of that one innocent purchase, I have now been pegged as a “CRAZY CAT LADY” who will buy just about ANYTHING, as long as it has the same design! Suffice to say that by the time I’ve finished writing this, I probably have waiting for me at least 9 or 10 more e‑mails offering me yet more “matching” cat items – this list knows no bounds!

I really need to exercise more restraint!