Insomnia grips me. I climbed into bed around 8:30 p.m. It is now 2:53 a.m., and, if I am lucky, I managed to score a total of sixty minutes of sleep. My mind will not shut off. There is no particular topic, which is occupying my mind. Rather, the thoughts vary from playing roller hockey in San Diego to lifeguarding with a rather kooky senior guard in Sea Isle to sex to get away for a long weekend at a town with a warm beach. It’s a fucking nightmare of a situation, and I wish it were a literal nightmare because that would mean I was asleep, not composing this article at this ungodly hour.