If you live alone with no sense network of friends or family you can meet up with frequently, face-to-face, this book is a straight to your cranial horror tome. And social virtual networks do not count. Not really.
Awakeness. That state of being, staring up at the bed ceiling for days on end, hacking the wheeze of your lungs. Lungs coated in petrol siphoned from your employer's car, or even of your neighbour's teenage child. Because we all know, if you can afford to run a car, you can afford to sleep.