Behind me, Satan!
I’m not into poetic, old-wives-tale bullshit about external physical darkness evoking inner spiritual darkness. That’s probably why I didn’t like vampires or werewolves that much before Twilight.
Nonetheless, I hate staying up after 1:30 or 2 a.m. Not only because of the obvious physical hazards the North End of San Bernardino enjoys these days, but because of what I end up inflicting on myself.
My oldest resentments, my most cherished grudges, the jewels in my chest of hatred come out to be fondled when I stay up too late.
So I go to bed early tonight; get thee behind me!