Cambodian Coffee

I’m getting way too tired of being tired; to put it mildly, I’m very tired. All the tea on China, the coffee in Cambodia, even, couldn’t make me any less tired. I tried sleeping, but that didn’t work; sleeping is a waste of time when you’re all worked up, I mean so awake that you’re wasting time thinking about being asleep, which of course you can’t, sleep, because you’re awake thinking about it. The way I see it, which is pretty much blurry and off-centre most of the time, being tired must have something to do with not being able to sleep, and even if you could, you’d spend more time thinking about it, sleep, then actually doing it, so it’s all pretty much a waste of time, really. I used to sleep curled in a ball upside my granddad’s dog, but on account of the fact he had fleas and bad breath I stopped, with the dog in a ball, curled up and asleep. I tried reading the National Geographic, but that didn’t work, even the ones with naked pictures of tall African woman and antelopes, and some with African dogs and huts and high grass, those kinds of pictures. My dad, before the house burned, had these photograph magazines, some with nude pictures and ads for lipstick, and ads for teeth floss and these x-ray glasses that were really fake, cause all you ever saw was the veins in you’re hand, like they were painted onto the x-ray glasses, that kind of phoney shit. When I was littler I was always being fooled by shit, ads in photograph magazines and our house burning down, that sort of shit.