Time started: 20.30

State of mind: Tired. Tired. Tired. Suffered from a severe bout of insomnia this weekend. Fuck you, Fight Club. Insomnia is not cool. Am watching this after about six hours of sleep in the last three nights.

Beverage: Home made pear-apple-ginger-cinnamon juice providing the much needed natural sugar rush. Followed by a big glass of Ardbeg, the best whiskey ever. Hope it'll kick like a mule and keep me awake.

<press play>

The dawn of mankind: The music seems louder somehow. Penetrating the sleepy haze around me. I like it. We are all silly monkeys throwing feces at each other. I feel sorry for the Monolith. It seems lonely.

State of mind part two: I shouldn't be watching this. I'm not doing it justice. I hate birthday parties.

Space: The pacing here is washing over me like a summer shower on a winter's evening. It doesn't make sense yet it does. And it feels good. It is comfortable, like bobbing on a lake in a rubber boat. It is enhancing my sleepwatching haze. That music. HAL actually seems like a nice chap. Not feeling the dread at all. Sipping whiskey, cheers, here's to next year.

State of mind part three: I should probably get up and go to bed now, but I can't. I somehow need that final act.

Acid flashback: Help. Sensory overload. It's like being dumped at a rave after three hours in a zen garden. Like in the beginning everything seems louder, more intense, more frightening. I am awake. Damn you, HAL. Damn you, 2001. Damn you, Monolith. I still love you, but you kinda broke me tonight.

I am supposed to write impressions.

Here's a cat.

Meow.

Here's a bad comedian.

Hope I don't get HALitosis.

(fade to black)

(I hope)