He didn't sleep much the whole week. He didn't sleep much ever. He was always wary of what time he thought he wanted to go into his room and turn off the lamp. There was an open silence he walked through, which seemed like sleep, in his apartment. Different thoughts became ideas and then regrets. His brain was sort of a soft mind. Light entered his eyes in sharp blurs. The sofa and coffee table entered. The internet kept him awake. He still wanted things after emails, salad, beers, video games, and small parts of novels. The movie The Cove, about a tiny cove where Japanese fisherman slaughter an impressive number of dolphins each day. The frames slowing and freezing and the sound continuing into his soft brain like a diagnosis. He'd wrap himself in three quilts and turn himself like something cooking after bones and muscles ached and limbs went to sleep. The activists crying, Japanese fisherman are blank and stern, the cove with an overcast above. He sleeps until 1. In the morning his thoughts were already unreasonable.. In the day there would be a crest. While he walks to the store it seems the worst.