I was drowning, so to speak, back there for a few days. My ideal time to go to sleep to get a full rest – and at this point a guarantee against insomnia – is about 5 in the morning. If I go to sleep at or around 5 in the morning, I'll get a full 8, 9, 10 hours of sleep. 10 hours of sleep!? Who, aside from one of my exes, needs 10 hours of sleep?!!

Drowning in sleep, unable to get up and out of bed and stay out. Waking up in mid-afternoon means no day left. All there is left is killing the evening, hopefully getting out for something to eat at some point, then sitting in front of the computer surfing YouTube videos, and I can do that for hours into the wee hours of morning you have no idea.

Well, if you're reading me, you likely do. I'm wasting what little of my life is left. Par for the course. Story of my life. If I had a lot of my life left, I'm sure I'd find a way to waste that, too.

Last night I forced myself off the computer, lights out, CD player on timer for 30 minutes at just past 3 o'clock. I did hear the CD player shut off, but I did fall asleep soon after and woke up just past 9, a good and godly reasonable time to wake up. Drifted a little but then came to still in the 9 o'clock hour – which is unlike when I'm drowning, where I may wake and look at the clock at 10:30, "drift a little" and then look at the clock again at 11:45. Then do it again and it's 1:35. Etc.

I guess nothing's gonna make what I'm once again projecting to be the last days of my life not a waste of time. That's not the point, though. Ending this life, going through that door is the point.

Morning sitting, or post-waking-up sitting rather, has largely been dedicated to that point. Schluffing off my immortality – this uncanny ability I have to selfishly stay alive while being or doing nothing of value to anyone – while trying not to be cavalier about my mortality.

It's also been a protracted effort into getting into that meditative state. A mental place. I read a while back about some scientists taking brain readings of Tibetan monks going into meditation, and there were discernible changes in the monks' brain activity. When I sit, I'm a little wishy-washy about what I think of it.

Most of the time thoughts and words wander and scatter and there's always some mental activity going on, I don't know if I'd call it a "meditative state", but I also do think that if you engage in this practice of sitting on a cushion for 45 minutes with one or both legs thrown across each other, you do go into a meditative state.

It's very difficult to do that otherwise, it's too boring. I don't think I could just sit in a chair without getting into the position, and do nothing for 45 minutes. So this sitting is not just doing nothing.

And lately I've been pushing the boundary even more, trying to find something like that meditative state that Tibetan monks go into, just in case the meditative state I do go into is not enough. In my mental imaging, it's a physical space, black-on-black. Outside of it it's all black, the boundary is black, and inside of it is black. And only breathing can take me through the portal through the boundary.

But I don't know if I'm succeeding, and I don't want to take credit for succeeding and feeling all proud of myself for reaching this state when I'm not, so the boundary is black velvet, and I'm going through the portal, but the black velvet is still a barrier there. It should disappear naturally without me knowing it if I'm doing this right. Until then, it's just a practice, and there's no goal involved.