he is a ‘long struggling poet’ with ‘extreme reverance for art’ and is thus pretty socially isolated and critical towards me in sort of obvious ways

I have at least five alarm clocks, none of which have snooze buttons and none even close to being at arm’s length from my bed. I have set up habits that put me in a sleepy mood earlier in the evening. I have taken pills. I have done everything save be shocked with a cattle prod in the morning.

A unstoppable urge swelled up in me. I had to get messed up and I had to go out again. I scoured the apartment for drugs. My roommate just broke his collar bone; I thought maybe there were some painkillers lying around. All I could find was more Ambien. Why not? I crushed one up and snorted it.