When I was a teenager, I used to periodically stay awake all night and into the next day. If I'd been feeling out of sorts, or not sleeping well, doing this tended to reset me. Like pressing the right buttons on a machine to restart it.

I so loved this. There is something about the night that is still and quiet in a way nearly nothing else ever is…I'm thinking of soundproof booths for recording as I write this, but these are the kinds of spaces that aren't accessible to most of us.

The night universally is. You can spend it in your home, in your back garden, in a park, in a forest. Tends to be more pleasant to be awake all night in the spring or summer, when the night is less likely to be frigidly cold, and there are lovely sounds of crickets or other small beasties about.

But the quiet is magical. There is energy in it, a special sort. Even more so if the moon is out.

Alas, these days when I am awake in the middle of the night, it's not usually deliberate or wanted. I am up, and that is all. I want nothing more than to fall asleep again, because the lack of sleep can't simply be napped away. It lingers, like an inebriation I can't shake. Like a bad trip that's taking too long to end.