Yawn! It begins nicely, it ends interestingly. In between it's packed with boring and dull memories dotted by being stoned, being high, absurds chance encounters with newyorkers, a grumpy lottery ticket seller, the author taking lotsa pride in always carrying along a camera. Btw, the photogs are ok.
The only light, alas less than I expected, and this is probably why i'm so disappointed, shines when Oliver Sacks enters the scene.
I'd re-write the subtitle to: Me, NY and Oliver.
Oh, one more thing, why the heck the title!?!? Oliver and him are both insomniac, ok we get it, but besides that there's no real influence in the book. Bad.