And Not a Drop to Drink

Oh, my stomach is roiling like only a sea full of sulfuric stomach acid can roil.  Every tide seems to threaten my whole gorge with its corrosive reach.

I’m drinking water, which is not the most effective solution chemistry-wise, but I don’t really have anything else that sounds palatable.  I’ve made the mistake of being so hungry yesterday and not eating protein or anything that today I thought I could somehow make up for it all at once.  Not really a great idea.

Today’s been pretty productive for a while, anyway. We got a shredder!  So I’m getting ready to just run some mail through that’s been sitting around and waiting for just that treatment.  Also, we got lunch and the hot and spicy spices of the lunch plus my weird craving for very cold Starbucks (it was not quite cold enough or I didn’t drink it fast enough despite pounding it down like a son of a bitch) is what’s causing me the intestinal distress I’m suffering right now.  That and my own stupidity regarding food lately.   I just feel very porous, if that’s a way one can feel.  Obviously, it must be.

I do want to apologize for yesterday’s exercise in non compos mentis.  I don’t know exactly where my head was at, but it filled up my social bar to overflowing and it was great to just skype with my friends and feel like this was the only worthwhile thing in the world. We stayed up till nearly 2:00am, bullshitting and planning deviant and fantastically terrible plans.

But that hasn’t ruined today’s very serious, organizational, infrastructure-investing plans.  We did get the front room in order and we bought actual things for actual cleaning today and not just more cubicles and folders that are going to add to the crap that have to be cleaned up even though we think we’re going to sit down and organize our lives into cubicles and folders all in one quick go.  Let me tell you from all my lengthy experience that never, ever happens.  So instead, we’ve got stuff to clean the carpet, the shredder, some wipes for the bathroom, etc, etc, tmi, tmi.   I vacuumed!  I’ll send more missives from the war on decadence and laziness once I get myself back on the front lines.

For posterity’s sake, I’ll leave this here so that it might trigger some further memory of the dream I had last night.  I dreamed that I was hanging out with this other couple and they were going to introduce me to to this guy but I saw him from across the weird dreamscape area we were in and it was like WELL, HEY, YOU, PERSON MADE JUST FOR ME.  It was pretty much obnoxious, pda, love at first sight glory until I startled awake and like smoke, this nameless person left me with barely memory to commemorate his passing.  It was a warm dream, and that disturbs me a little bit, because warm dreams have this terrible ability to come true.

 

 

Le Jour Le Plus Froid Du Monde


Oh, weathercasters, you are retarded.  No snow.  Barely a thin sheen of frost on the roof of the adjacent condos.  We so often live in terror of things that will never be.

Blonde over blue, one word from you is all I need to be inspired.

It has been months since I’ve been able or willing to post in the mornings.  It makes for a nice change of pace, actually.  I thought that if I sat down and tried to be thoughtful about things beforehand then maybe today wouldn’t get away from me.  I got on the scale.  158.  That’s a number that can make you mad or it can make you relieved depending on how you look at it.

Today I need to venture out after straightening up as much as I can before I start rending my clothing and tearing my hair and go to the store.  I have the list but it is making me nervous in the morning light.  I really don’t want to spend 100.00 dollars on good food and end up throwing it out.  Seriously.  This is the kind of ridiculous headspace I’ve been dealing with where I’m so manic for fast food and unhealthy things that I don’t even allow myself to consider going home and cooking even if that meal is as tasty and good for me as anything else.  Since I have to drag my Christmas ham (oh, that sounds like a terrible aspersion on myself) over to my parents, I probably should go to the grocery store over there and deposit my check.  But if I go there, the likelihood is high that I’ll sit around or be dragged to the mall where the little flame of willpower promptly is blown out by the prospect of a joyful/numb 20 minutes in a food court.

I know myself well enough to know that I will make a fool of myself at every given opportunity when I’m hungry or bored or in between hungry and bored.  I’m an incredibly dangerous person in that way.  Stand in awe.

So, all that being said, I do need to eat and while we may have a new generation of penicillin growing in the fridge, we do not have breakfast in there.   This is getting rather overwhelming and it feels like time is slipping away.  When you get overwhelmed, here’s what I do when I’m thinking straight – write down five things on your to-do list and do those things, not other things, not additional things, no other things until those items and tasks are done.  Once that’s true, you can look again and see in what other direction to go in.

You definitely don’t want to turn on the Netflix and watch a random episode of Law and Order.  No.  You have things to do, you’re a mover and a shaker (a terrible aspersion?), you’ve got people to see and hams to deliver and life is right outside the door.

Random recommendation: watch Misfits.  Do it.

Sometimes I can understand French when I don’t try so hard.

Paranoiac-Critical Study

Pushing.  I’m definitely pushing  today.  It’s not a consistent thing with me.  I’m not a consistent person which is part of this blog project’s purpose.  To have something reliable in my life that I do, day in and day out, whether it’s convenient or pleasant or what anyone else wants of me, it’s going to be done.  It’s also why I have some plans, at this point, to just keep doing the damn thing until some circumstance makes me not do it and then, get up and do it the next day.

Five hundred words is not very much when you have something to say and when you’ve got this imagination rhinocerous grazing and charging about in the fertile crescent of your skull, there tends to always be some fragment of dream, some storyline budding, some rage or slight, some reaction to the world that feels unique or pressing, some love heaving, its breath all smoke and embers never fated to turn to fire.  Potent stuff for the production of text.   Maybe we all have this and ignore its rampages in favor of living a life as it comes.  Maybe most of us let the rhinocerous run.  But, maybe a few of us can’t and instead, we’re here, battering away on impulse, wanting to somehow transform ourselves through the effort.

I’m participating in National Blog Posting Month or NaBloPoMo if you’re clever and can’t be bothered with a string of four commonly recognized words.  There’s no place to stick any badges on here that won’t screw with the layout and the consistency of the layout is not something I want to change either, so you’ll just have to handle me re-reminding the universe every now and then about the project.

Damn, I don’t like when the heater makes weird noises.  I feel like that shouldn’t happen when I’m home alone and would have no idea if it’s just a random heater noise, or even some adjoining neighbor’s vibrating washing machine.  It’s just, yeah, if everything exploded, I probably should have some plan about how to get out of here.  I’m not a complete paranoid, I don’t EXPECT everything to catch on fire and spray caustic gas and asbestos into the air, I’m just saying that if it happened, I’d be pretty much in the same spot I’d be in if it happened and I hadn’t thought about it all.  I just have the 30 second horror of imagining self-immolation and the 30 second delight of realizing it’s just the neighbor’s vibrating (violently, in fact) washing machine and if I’m to die today, we’ll have to figure something else out.

A writer is very rarely right in the head.

Um, more projects finishing up.  I emptied the dishwasher and filled it and this is not just for my sister’s report, but hey.  I’m working on a yummy, low-carb dinner and had a good lunch and I weighed in on the maybe baby scale at 152.5.   Right?  If I remember, that’s right.

There’s a certain coziness to the end of the day.  Like a warm blanket wrapped around you. The elections notwithstanding, me, myself, and I are all doing okay.