Camp Ramah is a series of Jewish Camps across the continent.

When I was younger, 13 and again at 14, I was a proud attendant of Camp Ramah in California. I have no recollection of how we found out about the camp. I certainly didn’t know anyone when I first attended.

It was one of the best times in my life. I honestly think that that one spot, in the Ojai Valley, was where I was most comfortable. Throughout my entire life, I think right there was when I was at my happiest.

Today, I was playing around in Goolge Earth and decided to try to find the camp where I was so happy. It wasn’t easy, but eventually, I did.

Below is a shot from GoogleMaps and also a real map showing what’s what and where’s where.

I miss it.

Shortly after I left there, back when I was writing a lot of stuff still, I wrote about camp. I still have it, saved on my computer, passed from harddrive to harddrive through the last 10-11 years. I perused it earlier. For what it is and when it was written, it’s not that bad… I might even post it here if I get sentimental enough.

The man is just unstoppable.

This year, I’m predicting a grand slam victory.

I even tried to sign up for a online-gambling site to put money down on it, but wasn’t able to successfully transfer money in. I was also going to bet on the football games today, even though I don’t care about the teams in the least.

But that Roger Federer… by the time he retires he’ll have broken every record in the books. Mark my words.

Insomnia time again… must mean it’s time to post a blog entry. This one, however, will not involve problems sleeping.

Throughout my life, I’ve never every truly had a best friend. From the day I was born right on through to this second, I never formed a non-sexual pair-bond (a fancy-shmancy sociological talk that means best friend)

True, I do have friends. But I don’t have anyone to call best-friend. Sure, some friends are better than other and they could be ranked in order and the one on top would technically be my best friend, but the friend you like the most does not a best friend necessarily make.

I can’t help but wonder how not having a best friend has affected my life and personality. Would I be more social? Would I not have the difficulty I have with staying in touch with people? Would I feel less awkward? Would I be able to make real connections to people?

I live a very solitary life. In any given week, I might speak with only 8 or 9 people. That’s it. Total. If it’s a busy week, I might go out to the bar or to Drew’s place and speak with 3-5 people more. That’s it.

Of the people that I may speak with in a week, only two do I actually spend any real amount of time with, at work. Besides that… I sit around with my ferret and use up my time in various ways.

Man… I’m feeling a depression coming on and seeping in. The question now becomes… will this be productive depression or a constructive one? Only time will tell, I suppose.

So, have you ever wondered why so many of my blog posts concern sleep and lack of sleep and insomnia?

Well, I’ll tell you!

See… I was supposed to be asleep now, but insomnia breeds words. It breeds thoughts that simmer and stew until they overflow and spill out.
When you’re an insomniac, sometimes time slows down and slips around and wraps in upon itself. You lose track of time passing, but you’re aware that time passes. You are still awake and aware of the world around you, but everything is filtered and warped and not really real. But it’s the sense of time that fucks with you. You lose all concept of time lying there in your insomnia cocoon. Five minutes extends to what feels like hours and hours pass in what seems like only five minutes, and the fucked up thing, is both can happen at exactly the same time creating a Escher-like paradox.

Never quite asleep, never quite awake. Sanity stretched thin as it is pulled between the twin polarities. That is the essence of insomnia.

P.S. The new new sleeping meds have stopped working.

As I wrote about here, I have recently rediscovered not only the simple joy of reading, but the benefits that reading literature, in and of itself, bestows.
Too many people these days don’t read. I know I sound preachy or possibly nihilistic and probably old-fashioned as well, but it’s true. When people do read, I find, it’s crap: Political bullshit from one extreme expounding on why the other side is not only wrong, but stupid, morally corrupt, and probably Satanists; Chicken Soup for the soul… which despite its title does NOTHING to feed one’s inner self; Motivational Crap; Religious Crap; Sanctimonious Crap; The Five People You Meet in Heaven; etc…

I must say, begrudgingly, that at least they are reading. If we are a nation of literary anorexics, starved so dearly for any morsel of intellectual input, then people who read the books above are akin to the eating habits of poor college students: all ramen noodles and greasy take-out and pizza delivery, things that fill you up but lack the nourishments required to feed a body or things so very unhealthy and damaging to a body.

People need to read literature. Or at least I think that they SHOULD need to read it. That they should hunger for it, crave it, and devour it when they get the chance, and I have no idea why they do not.

Literature is what feeds one’s soul. It’s what allows us to know that we are human and to relate our humanity to the humanity of others. It’s not just entertainment… not just a mystery to solve or a page-turning-adventure-full-of-twists-and-turns-that-grabs-you-and-never-lets-you-go. It’s much, much more than that.

Reading literature makes one a better person.

Reading magically and invisibly changes who you are. It shapes you like a sculptor shaping clay. It covers the pockmarks on the face of your inner-child. It fixes that which is intrinsically wrong with each of us. It changes you, and it always changes you for the better.

In the past 5 weeks, I have read the following:

Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman (short stories and poetry)
I Feel Sick Vol 1 & 2 by Jhonen Vasquez (comic books)
Stardust by Neil Gaiman (fantasy)
SQUEE! by Jhonen Vasquez (graphic novel)
Shipwrecks by Akira Yoshimura (Japanese fiction)
Nymphomation by Jeff Noon (cyber-punk-esque science-fiction)
Fire at the Center by Geo. W. Proctor (science-fiction)
How to be Good by Nick Hornby (fiction)
Starwings by Geo. W. Proctor (science-fiction) (reading currently)