What's got me up, either the caffeine content of the chimarrão I drank at around 6pm or the fact that it's one of those blasted summer nights where the heat and the insects conspire to keep one awake. As well as the highly irritating whine of the mosquitoes, so much for the matinset device that's supposed to drive the buggers away, there's the 120 decibel buzzing hiss, or maybe it's a hissing buzz white noise of the cicadas in the trees outside, no use telling them to shut the fuck up, they don't listen.
It could be a combination of all these things, fact is I'm WIDE HOO HA AWAKE at freeking 1am.

A possible solution is to read Dickens. I've tried, again, to read "Little Dorrit". I now have to admit that Dickens is so excruciatingly boring in most of his books, that he could send me to sleep. I found "David Copperfield" and "Great Expectations" a little heavy going at times but they held me to the end at which point I thought "good books" (okay I'm not the best literary critic). "Martin Chuzzlewit" I struggled through but finished only with extreme persistence. "Our Mutual Friend" and "A Tale of Two Cities" I gave up after 30 or so pages, I have it on good authority of a friend of mine that "Hard Times" follows the same trend. I almost made it to the end of "Pickwick Papers" but kind of petered out with just 70 or pages to go. As I was reading "Dorrit" my friend was reading "Times", we both met up and asked ourselves and each other, "Why are we torturing ourselves like this?". Consequently I've given up on "Dorrit" again for the time being, I may get back to her later only if I suffer an extreme literary drought, not entirely infrequent, not sure yet of my friend's decision on "Times".

While doing research for my magnificent octopus, which I am currently working on, I came across this site and found it well worth perusing through. I found six gods of literature, strangely five Chinese and one Japanese. Wot no Western gods of literature? I could perhaps burn my Dickens books as offerings to the Eastern gods. One, in a hope that Dickens may become INTERESTING for me, but then again I won't have any of the books left, and two, that perhaps the gods will help me with my magnificent octopus, maybe I should write it in Mandarin.

RIGHT I'm off to bed.