At first it was because there was so much music to hear and books to read and people to meet.
For eight of the years that I've lived at Chez Pez I worked in a coffeehouse and bakery. I would get there around 5:30 in the morning and work at the counter until noon-ish, do paperwork, ordering, banking, and scheduling for a few hours then go home for a nap or laundry or whatever.
On evenings that we had music I would go back to work around 6:00 pm and work until it was over. Most nights I was going out to see music after that.
And it was fine. I've never needed a lot of sleep. I was the kid reading under the covers with a flashlight when I was young.
I was always a good sleeper - it never takes me too long to conk out and I can sleep just about anywhere.
Then one night I just woke up. Wide awake. For no reason.
It happened again and again and again, night after night after night.
In those days, um, nights - I'm guessing it was about 15 years ago - I would get dressed and head out the door to walk through the neighborhood. In retrospect it wasn't the safest thing to do, but I was never worried.
I had my little route, I'd zigzag through about a six block area always having in mind who's porch I'd run onto if I felt afraid.
One early morning I as I was looking at posters in the window of LUNA music I saw a guy sitting on the bench on the corner. I sort of recognized him and we struck up a conversation. As it turned out his wife was part of my extended circle of friends. Tom and I had a nice chat at 3:00 AM. That's how all friendships start, right?
Now I'm a little wiser about my middle of the night adventures. After reading this article I started embracing the idea of a "second sleep." I will get up and do dishes or read or make my lunch for the next day. I might get as far as my backyard, but no more wandering the neighborhood.
Sleep tight, my friends.