There's got to be correlation between madness and actively not wanting to sleep.

It's not that I don't get tired. I get tired around the same time every night, but lately I've gotten this constant, irrepressible urge to stay up even when assaulted by said tiredness. Tonight I gave in and it's like one-ish and I'm scouring the internet for live Radiohead bootlegs. Okay, well I would have been doing that during the day, but it feels particularly empty at night. I'm going to see them live in August and I'm not sure if it will be an apotheosis or just business as usual.

But I did write one page of a story, a reworking of an old one that I've shopped around everywhere and since gained strong opinions on what it should have been. Four words: less swords, more muskets. I plan to throw this one at Writers of the Future and see if it sticks.

Speaking of which, I saw the video of Green Day playing at Woodstock 94 today where they were pelted by mud that completely destroyed the stage and the equipment. It's kind of fun to watch Billy Joe Armstrong moon the crowd. Also to see the way he keeps playing after a glob of mud smacks his playing hand and splatters all over his pickups.

I've been avoiding some reading I have to do for English comprehensive exams in the fall. The reason why I've been avoiding it was at first because it was David Copperfield. I love Dickens, but I don't love being under a deadline to read him. Plus, I've got this shiny ARC of Ken Scholes' novel and I want to finish it cuz it's good, and significantly shorter than David Copperfield. But now I'm supposed to read Living By Fiction by Annie Dillard. I should have bewared when I knew this was a book on fiction that English theory professors liked.

More ranting to follow, when I'm not so bloody tired.