Nocturnal despoliation?

I can't sleep tonight. Despite the amount of physical and mental exhaustion I am going through at the moment, I find it harder and harder to fall asleep. I must have my earplug on all night just to make it through... I am extremely sensitive to sound, which is quite weird considering that I often have trouble making out what people are saying. It might be psychosomatic.

There are a few things I do at times like this to ease my mind. I read while drinking my favorite cup of tea, black or earl grey with a tint of bourbon or wine, or a cup of green tea ice cream. I might turn off all the light in the house and turn on all kinds of screens and displays, each playing different feature-length film. The sound is muted of course. I almost always play videodrome on one or more of screens/displays when I am doing this.

However, there is one activity that I prefer over any other. I open all the windows and doors of the house, and practice violin. I am particularly fond of Maito Itsui's melody in D# major... An obscure piece from a mediocre composer no one even remembers anymore... The particular piece itself doesn't even have a proper title, and calling it a piece in D# major would be a little inappropriate since it merely begins out in D# major and returns to D# major, while transversing all sorts of different acoustic terrain in between. Is this tune a forgotten gem from an unknown genius? No. It certainly isn't. The structure and execution of its musical structure is horrible. I'm an amateur in all things musical and even I can see that. However, there is certain elegance and silent, dignified longing that occasionally slips through the rough surface of the music, a peculiar trait that helps to wash away all the other sounds in my mind... It's like garnish. As a standalone plate it is lacking, but when combined with certain setting that goes beyond music, a strange moment in time, it helps the listener/player to see something beautiful. Hazy and momentary phantasm, but beautiful nonetheless.


This might come off as an immature sentiment, but there's always been this strange feeling of obsession coupled with strange hatred toward what I collectively refer to as the world in my mind. If only it was possible to shed the filth of the world and reach some sort of state or place or being...
It's very hard to describe despite bringing such intense sensation to my heart when I think of it... Something that's only fleetingly glimpsed in highest pursuits of arts, sciences, and philosophy, something so ephemeral yet seemingly ever present in different forms and substances that are all united in the strange sensation it evokes in the human mind. Even the wildest interpretation of the term 'divinity' doesn't begin to describe the profound depth 'it' seem to possess. I've long suspected 'it' of being in some way related to the origin of all human endeavor, the very activity of human life that goes beyond the pursuit of sustenance and reproduction... The sublime and evolving act of creativity that goes beyond simple ingenuity in face of adversity, so to speak.

Listening to the strands of melody let go into the air from the vibrating strings in my hand, I can't help but to be reminded of the reason why I chose my life to be what it is now.