Richard Marx is haunting me. An insomniac, it sometimes takes me hours to fall asleep. Better yet, I often awake in the middle of the night -- five, six o'clock -- still tired and wanting to fall into a heavy sleep cycle, and always -- well not always, but unnervingly often -- with Richard Marx, anguished and melancholy in my skull. Hold on to the night. Hold on to the memory, he pleads. Richard Marx. Why? Why won't you just leave me alone? The more important question, really, is: why do I have trouble sleeping? My dentist suggests stress. At my last appointment he hovered over me in my reclined chair, his hair so much more gray than it had been upon my last visit, "You clench your teeth when you sleep." A mouth guard, he recommended, at the mere price of $125 U.S. dollars would prevent any further damage from chippage, wear-down, or TMJ, whatever that may be. And, though this plastic marvel of dentistry could mold to fit my exact jaw, it could not thwart my irresistible urge to clench. Only when I was completely stress free, I was informed, would this teeth-clenching cease. "And we all know that's impossible," he laughed. Bastard. But the idea of the mouth guard only challenged my neurosis. Yes, my teeth would be safer from my own personal jaws of death, but the price was too much to bear. I imagined rolling over in bed to a new lover, amazed that we had finally found each other, only to find him disturbed and distracted from my glowing eyes, edging out of bed, still staring at my orthodontically enhanced smile. My future son, age four, with nightmares of Oompah Loompahs growing in his head, would come to me for comfort only to find an equally terrifying mouth full of plastic goop, eating his mother. This mouth guard was not the solution. In fact, it was only adding stress to my life and I had not even purchased it yet. And, truth be told, I probably wouldn't have worn the thing. It was a lose-lose situation and I would still be full of stress, waking up to Richard Marx in my head. I wish that I could give you more. Ooohhh. Richard Marx. He of feathered mullet and 80's love ballads: why, why, WHY? It is true, I do own the CD with "Now and Forever" on it, and somewhere in my dense collection of mp3s, "Hold On to the Night" probably does exist. But I haven't listened to either in years. I have moved on to better music, music that reflects my complex intellect and lifestyle. Music not on MTV, but MTV2. Furthermore, "Hold on..." was not even my favorite of his songs. "Now and Forever" was clearly better written, more meaningful, dedicated to his children. Whenever I'm weary, from the battles that rage in my head. You make sense of madness, when my sanity hangs by a thread. The use of metaphors, head battles and hanging sanity, if any Richard Marx song should haunt me "Now and Forever' is it. I barely know any lyrics to "Hold on..." or for that matter, whether the actual song title is "Hold on to the Night" or just "Hold on." It just doesn't make sense. So you know what? Fuck you Richard Marx. Fuck you Dr. Teramoto and your dental hygienist Hilda with the fake green eyes. Fuck you all. And let me get some goddamn sleep.

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