Insomnia two time-zones east ain't pretty. You slip in your earbuds and hope to distract yourself asleep.
(I've just been informed that they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night.)
It doesn't work. You start thinking about how it's already 2:30 AM and you have things to do first thing tomorrow morning.
(Now it seems Johnny's waving his gun around and threatening to blow his top.)
You start paying too much attention to lyrics and wondering whether the album you've chosen is sufficiently soporific. You switch to something less wordiful. You search your library in vain for the Jim O'Rourke CD you purchased a week or two ago. You ask yourself "What did I do with Another Green World? Where has all my relaxative music gone?" ('Cause you need the peace to flow. Unimpeded. From those buds into your brain.) You hope writing about insomnia will cure you of it.
Your hopes are in vain. You think "Maybe someone will leave a comment so intensely dull I'll be stunned asleep" and know you'll never know unless you hit post.
So you do.