Moments of Static and Jazz

I've been distracted lately and terrible at writing down thoughts.
They switch quickly, those thoughts. Often my head feels like a radio constantly seeking through stations, moments of static and jazz, loud car commercials and top 40. Call letters calling out just enough to stay blurry.
I am one who carries great intentions.
I have ideas to do much, intentions to do much, but rarely act.
I am perpetually distracted.
Sleep is like liquor: once you know what bad sleep feels like it's easy to see why one should invest in the good stuff. Bad sleep comes off feeling like a waste of time. I don't sleep well most nights. I wake more tired than before.

Saturday night I was at the shop with Margarita and Jonathan, lounging around the woodstove, thankful for its heat. Seems so far from the hazy summer nights with the bay doors wide open, sitting out on the roof watching fireworks and life. These are days of woodsmoke and wool. Jonathan said something that had me thinking about the difference between talking and conversing; they are hardly synonymous. Very often the intention to converse exists but the ability to do it is missing. And thus I talk with no direction.
Like roving between the static.