a winter nap

Naps are wonderful. But one thing about napping, when you're not used to it, or poor at it (say, napping too long), is that it can really scramble your brains, which, incidentally, along with the rest is why they're wonderful.

Though, as it goes, I'm neither very used to naps nor good at them, I nap too long. I've had a couple really long naps over the past few days. The reason for these naps is partly rooted in the dark coldness of the January air and my new found love of rum (which is odd because I generally don't enjoy sugary things, chocolate, for instance). Anyway, as I had said, a nice long nap can scramble your brains, especially in the winter time when a nap can significantly cut into the amount of experienced daylight hours.

So, when I woke up a few hours ago, all stumbly and incoherent, the world seemed a much sharper, colder and uncaring place than I had immediately remembered it being before dozing off. And, in this, I found it a clear reminder of the utter loneliness of existence, the loneliness that a steadily conscious or regulated mind works so hard to forget, or to deceive you as to its non-existence. And, I think the reality of this matter is beyond perspective or remedy, it's something that neither the night, occupation, nor company of any sort can ever take away. I tell you, there's nothing wrong with a nap.