Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset.

I haven't been able to sleep tonight. Nightmares. I can see the definintion of the trees outside now. An hour ago I was walking around in complete night in yellow-tighties around the block. If there was an indie coffeehouse open right now I'd go there for a bad sugary pastery and some coffee. 18 Starbucks are opening just down the street in about one minute. But they'll be playing, godforsakenly, mid-'60s Dylan and that will make everything feel just that much more wrong. I miss this time of morning in Phoenis--it reminds me of the summer just after I graduated H.S. JJ and Adam and Tbird and I would be finishing a game of Tony Hawk at his parents house right at this time and we'd be heading to Dunkin' Donuts for a mess of chocolate longjonhs, strawberry frosted, et al, and then go to bed or build a block wall with Jens for little money and Jack in the Box breakfast sandwitches that we couldn't eat (meat). The coldest part of the day/night is just after the sun rises. Is that common knowledge? I remember driving down Scottsdale Road just after the sun came up, listening to Lonesome Crowded West in my old truck, with my shirt off, and having my nipples be a little cold and me being suprised by that fact. I also remember coming home at 4am. My dad would always be getting in the shower and I'd go downstairs into my bedroom and take off my clothes and putting on boardshorts (our house was always hot and that's all I wore in the summer months) and going back up to the kitchen to talk to him as he fed Sid a little kibble and put on his work boots. He'd say he was worried about me and I'd say I thought I'd be ok and he'd refill his coffee and head to work. I'd go back downstairs and light some candles (my room smelled like boy/poetic lighting) and punch out some shit on my typewriter until I felt tired. I always felt really close to him on those mornings when it was still twilight out. There was something about seeing him in that light that made me know that we both understood what darkness was. The way he laced up his workboots and looked at the dead grass in the yard and the way his hand heavy on my back as he left for work.