Warren Zevon once sang, "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Those are wise words from the late signer songwriter. However, he was speaking metaphorically. I REALLY can't sleep. In fact I haven't gotten more than a few consecutive hours in weeks. This kind of deprivation takes a toll. I'm cracking up.

It's 2 a.m. and here I am again with my eyes fixed on the ceiling. I've already watched three late-night talk shows. No matter how much I love Conan O'Brien there's nothing funny about a case of insomnia. Frustration builds and the sunrise comes too fast.

I slide through the days, dragging myself to meet routine obligations. They are mundane even under the best circumstances. It's all I can do to hit the train, crack a book and fire up my iPod. At work I put it on cruise control, trying hard to avoid any major mistakes. I lay out movie advertising for newspapers all over the country. Any slip up turns into a highly visible and expensive problem.

A 24-hour news channel flashes that Hillary Clinton says, "I'm in for 2008." For a while this occupies my political junkie mind, taking it off the manic stillness of the room.

Politics turns to war and football. The anchorman, who looks as tired as I am, offers a quick update of events in Iraq as if the war is just another high-speed police chase. Maybe that's how it always is. No one wants to think about the ugly things, but these hours of the day are made for ugly things. Even a busy neighborhood like mine goes quiet late at night. The wind blows, rattling nearby wind chimes and testing the strength of old trees. The cold only adds to the sense of doom.

So many Americans are far from home but most of the population doesn't take notice. They couldn't tell you who Muqtada al-Sadr is but they know how many touchdown passes Tom Brady had this year.

I curse myself because I dig football (24 TD throws against only 12 interceptions) and am crushed by the loss to the Colts.

What am I doing awake?

The harder I try to relax and fall asleep the more impossible it becomes. Unrelated ideas jump into my head. Is the heat on? What's the price of oil? They just laid off a couple more people at my office. Am I next?

This might be part of something larger, a breakdown or an early mid-life crisis. What do I want to do with the rest of my life? I'm still young. I've got years to figure that out. But what if I don't? You never know.

All this gets me nowhere. It's useless, like counting sheep. As morning approaches infomercials fill every channel. I don't need or want a super-wrench or something that cooks a chicken in under 30 seconds.

The deadline for this column looms. I'm thinking about last week's Life 101, Rebecca Keister's piece on breakup etiquette. I've been that guy who just stopped calling. It was a cowardly move and like Ms. Keister wrote, "boys are stupid."

That happened a long time ago but I still feel guilty. These are the kinds of thoughts that creep up when all you've got is time to think. You can't keep yourself busy all night. It's you versus your brain.

Maybe tomorrow night I'll get some rest. John Geysen of Attleboro is a regular Life 101 contributor. You can contact him at jgeysen75@yahoo.com.