Lonely Man Chronicles: Caffeine in High Definition

by admin on December 17, 2010

Lonely Man Chronicles

Caffeine in High Definition

The television offers no relief from his insomnia. Going on 4:30 a.m., sleep just is not an option for the fourth night in a row, or is it the fifth? Regardless of the number of nights, they all seem to blend together creating a perpetual midnight. Not being a big fan of pills, a sleeping aid was out of the question. Maybe he should invest in some premium movie channels; upgrade his cable. Maybe by watching movies back to back they will bore him to sleep. Then again, the boring syndicated re-runs hadn’t worked, so maybe he should invest his money in better ways or things. Besides, he was never really a movie buff to begin with.
He realizes that the weight behind his eyes is due to lack of sleep. When he looks in the mirror ( particularly the one on the medicine cabinet in his dull lighted bathroom), dark, puffy rings have surfaced under them, making him look somewhat cartoonish; an animated raccoon from Hell. Add bloodshot eyes and constantly watering tear ducts, and the character is complete. The hair that covers his face in on the borderline of severe shadow or low cut beard. Grey hairs have began to appear, peppering his usually black scruffiness. As far as his actual hair goes, it has taken on a life of its own. Not having washed it since the insomnia began, it’s a black tangle of dandruff and old hair gel, dropping down in the front over his forehead, tapered off in the back just below his neck. Consequently, he and his house’s mirrors are not on speaking terms.
Getting off the sofa, turning off the television, he heads to the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee. He is already fully awake, so he figures what harm could one cup cause? He remembers a saying: if you’re going to get wet, you might as well go swimming. Indeed, he has tried to live his life according to those very words. The coffee he finds in the refrigerator’s top door shelf is of the gourmet variety, a French roast of some sorts, and he places an extra scoop in the coffee maker before pressing the button to start the brewing process.
The delicious smell of fresh brewed coffee fills the kitchen, jogging his memory to the hundreds of times he has performed this very same ritual in various cities and states around the country. One tablespoon of sugar is added, and he stirs the coffee on the stovetop, carefully avoiding the two dirty pans leftover from last night’s dinner preparation. Extra strong, the way he expected it, needed it to be. Taking his coffee mug with him, he heads back to the sofa with no particular channel in mind, no particular goal set for the day.

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