run away tonight.

4:30ish...and I'm up again.

these nights i sleep entirely too late. i sleep when i should be getting up half the time. i'm trying to fix it -- or i vow to, at least, during the daylight hours (all three of them, if i slept until 3pm again) when i realize i'm either 1) missing out on the entire day or 2) feeling like shit.

but it's hard to. at night, it always seems a much better idea to stay up indefinitely. something about the feeling of the night, the darkness -- the potential of it, if that makes any sense.

i feel like at night there's something about the world that makes it mine, and mine only. something about the darkness, the sleeping city. everything dark except me, surrounded by darkness, but not threatened by it. present, and relaxed. nothing on my mind except inconsequentialities. nothing to do. no hurry. no rush.

i can just chill out. unwind. and feel the nighttime hours slide by.

2am to 5am is the golden age, and it passes so fast. there's such a disappointment in the dawning day, beautiful though it may be. those hours close so quickly. twilight's an hour at most, if you count that first bluing of the horizon. twilight comes and it's too late to try to sleep while it's still dark, to hold the night and extend it into unconsciousness.

i think, left to myself, i'd be completely nocturnal. and almost completely solitary. they say humans are social animals. i'm sure that's true, but sometimes -- way late at night -- i feel like i could be solitary, just so long as i had some music. maybe a cell phone. a laptop.

a car, a road, a lot of distance.

i love this song i'm listening to, maybe because it so perfectly embodies this mood, this desire to stretch the night on forever, where i'm alone, but not boxed in, not isolated. that's what it is. that's what makes these late night hours so special. i have the ability to be solitary, without needing to box myself in.

daytime and the world belongs to everyone. is populated. is flooded. night falls, midnight passes. 2am, 3am, and i'm the only one. i'm the only one. i'm the only one and the horizon is wide open, the ocean black, the stars bright. all the world, and only i'm awake, or so it seems: i'm alone; it's all mine.

freedom -- run away. run away tonight: lyrics from the song. perfect. the voice, which is low, a little rough at the edges, mellow. the music, which is slow, rolling out like a deepwater wave, backed by a solid bass, topped by guitar, grounded by a midtempo beat. the voice doesn't float on the music. it swims in it, threads through it, and in the chorus (freedom, run away tonight) briefly soars over it, in harmony.

it's the sort of song you listen to driving endless miles on the highway.

see, i think sometimes i'd really just walk out the door and drive away without a glance back, just to see where i end up. i think the only thing that stops me is the fact that the sun will rise, and then the dark will recede. the day will be unbearable stark and bright after a night without sleep, and reason will strike me again. and i'll be left there, staring, 500 miles from home, wondering wtf i was thinking.

if i could stop the earth from turning, just for a while, a few days, i'd do it. live in an endless night, just for a while. and this isn't some gothic obsession with darkness, some need to be moody and gloomy. there's nothing gloomy about the night i think of, only the freedom of blurred edges and blurred distances. only the expanses of lightlessness.

there's something magical about a highway. nothing but darkness, pavement, headlights flashing by, headlights sketching things into existence, anonymity, these cars that could've come from anywhere, could be going anywhere.


sometimes i get such a yearning to go and drive. i'm going in circles now. i don't know what it is. some need for solitude, distance and escape. but i don't think it's despondency.

at night, sometimes, i just feel like i could go anywhere. and i want to see if that's true. maybe.

anyway... 4:40am now. i need to sleep before the dawn. so here's me, signing off.