I'm Banking on the Placebo Effect

I'm pretty much getting wicked sick of not sleeping. My cartoon fantasy is for my cat to have tranquilizing venom in her fangs, and for her to bite me like a tiny calico vampire every night. In a perfect world, that's how this problem might be solved. I mean, that would be a really funny way to be put to sleep. Tiny white paws kneading at my veins.

I know all about the things you're supposed to do: exercise regularly, avoid too much caffeine, avoid too much alcohol, practice deep relaxation, meditate or do some yoga, avoid too much stimulation before bedtime, such as using a computer, set a regular bedtime and schedule, and blah-bitty-blah-blah-blah. Ok, duh. Fucking as if to at least half of that shit.

I'm not going to start taking drugs, it's pathetic enough that I fall back on old Vicodin and Xanax scrips on occasion. And then you have "natural remedies" like valerian root. Have you ever smelled that shit? Kind of a combination of vomit and sweaty hockey skates filled with cheese. Seriously. Tonight I unearthed a homeopathic remedy called "Calm-u-Nat". I took two of them about 20 minutes ago, washed down with a beer. We'll see.

I've had other cartoon how-to-fall-asleep fantasies. One involves a pulley system with a miniature wrecking ball mounted on my bedroom ceiling. Another a mad-cap chase around the neighborhood ending with a tranquilizer dart in the neck. You get the picture. Extreme outside intervention.

Insomnia makes you feel like a machine with an electrical problem. Like somewhere there are wires that keep communicating even when they're not supposed to be, an active, droning power drain. Where is the motherfucking off switch?