Memento Mori Moments

Vignette-esque celebrations about the expected death of us, the mortals. We shall die because we lived.


So, one thing I tried was taking supplements. There are a bunch of those for sale all around the world, all legal, nothing dangerous or weird at all.

So I go online and shop around, and Oh, look, I find this one supplement and it has a four-point-five star rating, and one of the reviews says: “Hey, I’m a three hundred pound guy, six-five tall, and I took two of these pills and they knocked me out. I ended up waking up the next morning, feeling extremely refreshed.”

So I buy that. And I take just one pill, because I don’t weigh three hundred pounds. I’m not going to tell you my exact weight, but I’m five-two, five-three-ish tall (short), and I’m considerably lighter than three hundred pounds. So I don’t want to overdo it, and I take one pill.

Guess what happens.

Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.

The next night, I take two pills. And that made me feel kinda mildly nauseous? But it did nothing for my sleep.

Then the next night, I take four pills. And still nothing. I was so so so so tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep.

So I threw away the whole bottle.

But, hey, the review said that the pills knocked out a three-hundred-pound guy. So it’s working for someone.


I firmly believe in people’s right to destroy themselves. I am in the camp where I don’t think suicide is necessarily bad. I believe in people’s right to choose euthanasia. Nobody can demand pain from another person.

But for fuck’s sake, if you want to die, die alone.

Like, don’t drink and drive.

And also, don’t smoke right into my face.

Especially don’t smoke at the driving range. Have some common sense. Like, where am I supposed to flee to? To the field toward which people are hitting the golf balls?

These men are basically killing me—only, very gradually and slowly, in a passive manner, so they delude themselves that it is okay. Nobody can put them in jail.

If I were to hit them with my golf club, I would be the one ending up in prison. And my claim that it was self-defense wouldn’t stand in court.

It is maddening.


On an average night, it takes me about an hour to three hours to fall asleep. That’s my reality.

Sometimes, I hear about people who supposedly fall asleep within fifteen minutes of lying down. And I’m like… Who are these people?

I mean, good for them. They are the chosen ones. They’re blessed.

But also… I don’t understand. I just don’t understand how it’s possible, especially on a regular basis.

I want to believe it’s possible, but it’s rarely happened to me. Also, it’s really erratic for me, my sleep “schedule,” if I can call it that. My sleep is characterized by a consistent lack of consistency, except for a guaranteed overall shortage.

So on any given night, it’s impossible for me to predict if this is gonna be the night I will lie down and fall asleep in fifteen minutes, or if this is gonna be the night when I’ll stay awake just overthinking everything in this whole entire world for three or more hours.

And that is why I’ve had plenty of time to overthink about sleeplessness itself. And in doing so, I’ve come to this conclusion: the more one chases sleep, the less likely one is to fall asleep.

You know you should sleep, and you want to sleep, but you can't let Sleep know that you want it to come pay you a visit. So you gotta play it cool and see if it comes of its own volition… or not.

#insomnia #noctuary #journal #overthinking

P.S. Call me Ithaka. Everything I do is organized here.


People associate mushrooms and fungi—you know, molds—with death and decay.

...which is why these things are so beautiful.

That which doesn't die and decay is far scarier and frankly, disgusting—like too much plastic. Especially when plastic is wasted, it's appalling. Those things might as well never go away.