blogs and bonnets

I'm not at all happy with my blog.
I find my theory elegant, intuitive and complete; but vastly unsatisfying.  I feel like a character in a movie who suddenly realizes he is in a movie. That is nothing more than the tag line of a woody Allen movie and realizing that I fear that god is woody Allen, or at least has his personality.
Then there is so much sentimentalization.  I tire myself with my tirades about love, about anger, about peace and war, my separating people into groups when they are nothing more than spiral bounds.  That last based on my musings that if they had an appearance, the initial great spiral would look much like the front of a bonnet.  As it spiraled down, strands of the bonnet would overlap, then overlap again, rarely becoming a part of the inevitable movement of bonnet from start to finish, raveling, then raveling again to make room for the ever decreasing size of the arc that was formed.  spiraling down to one completely unraveled mass at which point it would be at its most organized.  And woody allen would look on and say, at this point, you will realize you are in a movie and you will write a dissatisfying blog about it.
I think my insomnia reflects my desire to be up before the sun rises, so I can see the very special light that lights the top of the trees while it is so cool.  So that I can feel the mariner's breeze that carries ships out of the port early in the morning when it first stirs the branches.  So I can be alone with the sounds of nature before the people ruin them, in my enormous yard which keeps out the sights of other people but cannot quite hide their noise except for this early in the "day" when the only people who share the world with me are mariners of sailing ships bound for distant lands, fast food workers, and the night shifts at factors and bars weary to get home, And I feel with them, the desperation of the fast food worker, the weariness of never getting home again; home not being this grand and quiet yard before the sun has lit the tops of the trees, but where you lie with someone else, perhaps woody allen himself.  Action, camera, light the tops of the trees, let the breeze blow the ships out to sea, they too will have no home.