Insomnia. New Years Eve was three days ago and I haven’t slept since. The first night I thought it was because of too much alcohol and food in my system, you know over stimulated, but three nights later I still pace the apartment and go for long drives during the lifeless night.

I’m tired and I feel like if I lay down I would sleep, but as soon as I do my eyes shoot open like a baby doll’s. And in many ways that’s how I feel, waiting for someone to pick me up and play with me and touch me, paralyzed with anticipation.

Last night at roughly 3:30 am after rumbling in my bed, the couch, for a few hours, I grabbed Fran’s keys and drove to Mulholland by way of Laurel Canyon. I pulled over at the first scenic stop and stepped into the windy, cold night and leaned onto the warm hood. The sky was light-less and it scared me that no other universes could be seen, only the Valley, streets baring north and south, east and west, clearly highlighted with bright singular street lamps.

I watched an unknown car make its way through this maze of odd civilization and I wondered what defects would deter it from escaping to the Los Angeles Crest or the Pacific Ocean. Would the tire blow or the engine fail or is the driver himself going blind and about to hit a tree or perhaps someone will come out of their craftsman style house with a shot gun and blow this guy away? Finally, as I let my mind continue, the car pulled off a main lit street and turned off its lights.

I wanted sleep, I wanted a quiet mind, I wanted peace. I went to Accent Avant-guarde, a sex club I had heard about in the Valley, perhaps that’s where that driver was going, probably not.
****** After turning my key and listening to the engine shudder to stillness, I thought twice about going into the dark club, but I was craving warmth, a warmth that was only achieved by pressing up close to skin heated by the rush of blood.

I thought about who would be here, other people who couldn’t sleep. People just like me who wanted heat. That word led me to the door. As casually as I could, I went in. A bouncer stood at the door. A handwritten sign requested ten dollars. “I only have five.” He said nothing and I pulled the five out of my pocket, he took it, and indicated nothing. I went in.

Dark with spiraling color lights and loud medieval music. Fear captured me as I saw glimpses of desperate faces, faces that glowed with sadness. But that was me I thought and I was here, like them, to relieve that weight. But could I? That was the question.

I wanted hands on me, that’s what I was there for, but when finally a touch was given, I shuddered like the engine in Fran’s car but not to a stillness. I shook more and more and a man whispered, “Calm down baby, you’re in my hands now. I’ll take care of you.” I turned quickly to see a short bald man about fifty look up to me with car salesman eyes and I started to laugh, not at him, but at the peculiarities of what the hell I was doing.

I drove home thinking of sleep but knowing it was not to come.