graveyard shift

Anyone who has read a large chunk of this site would notice most of the posts are in the 'am' of time. It's not a timezone thing, ladies and gentlefolks. I am actually posting these things at silly times. Silly to you maybe, but not to me. This is my nocturnal habit; my time, my secret to creativity.

It all begins at 1am when most people I know have moved on to sleep and I am left to my own devices as if I were alone in the neighborhood. The fan makes a silent, calm fwooshing sound, keeping me cool despite the humidity. I only hear it if I have no music playing, which is rare. Music and silence are what fuels the hidden sections of my brains - the areas that seem to be celebrating all-year round. The ideas and random thoughts remind me of fireworks that never cease.

Any writer knows what a good dose of solitude does for writing something. That's what happens beyond 1am. I get a good dose. Not an overdose to induce insanity and depression, but enough to get the fireworks into party mode. Like it was New Year's Eve.

But that's not everything. Being awake at these lonely hours is an interesting thing beyond what happens in my head. Walking around to do dull things such as getting a drink or visiting Mr. John Loo in his humble abode becomes different. You can be home by yourself during the day and it's not the same. There's too much light to create the same atmosphere and unless you live somewhere that embraces daytime naps as a community, there's usually stuff going on.

The darkness of the am times envelopes the house in a way that makes it seem as if you are shut out from the world, but not in an eery, depressing way. It's peace. Silence and undisturbed surroundings. You can't see beyond the windows and everything remains the same passive black. Not a depressive black. Not an oppressive black - passive. It's just there.

You're surrounded by this constant shade in your little zone of light that makes no sound, but there's the sounds the fan or the music - or both. The clock creeps towards later hours when the shade begins to give way to a joyous blue-grey as the sun shakes off its own sleep and greets your side of the world. You retire now and slip away to another darkness full of subconscious plays.

This is the graveyard shift: calm, peaceful, silent, dark and strangely warm. Nature's ebb is at its lowest but you're wide awake.


- G ζ.

so softly speak to me
whisper a thousand words
I will sleep
but your voice echoes in my dreams