I am trying to concentrate on the book I'm reading but my legs are doing their crazy thing again, this maddening restlessness bit they like to do simply to sabotage my fragile contentment, the obnoxious fucks. I look like I'm doing the Charleston while sitting down. If only humanity could somehow harness the nervous energy of uptight overcaffeinated insomniacs, think what wonderful things we could accomplish. Instead it all just drains down our legs and dissipates like some worthless discharge, a feeble incontinence of caloric expenditure. My feet have been in manic rehearsal, seemingly eager to embark on some obscure midnight errand that involves a few steep staircases and maybe a unicycle.