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10 February 2003 @ 08:00 pm
treading water  
Managed to spend 70% of my weekend doing nothing. I mean. Truly doing nothing. The lying in bed fully dressed with my face smashed in a pillow for hours kind of nothing. I wasn't depressed or anything. I was just willfully immobile. In terms of writing, I got through a hard-copy edit of the X/S thing, which is, I dunno, still four-fifths done. Which it was the last time we checked in a week ago. Damn it. If only I could have taken Monday off, that fucker would have been *finished*.

I'm not happy with the fabulous prose stylings of Anna S. right now. This isn't a bid for sympathy or backrubs or anything--I'm just saying. I'm in a mood. I read a great story tonight, Clearance by Treacle Antlers. And it was just so smooth and direct and yet so funny and smart that I came away feeling gloomy about my own tangled sentences and sudden bursts of purple thistle and all that jazz. And it fucking *nails* the Spike voice. Bitch. (I snarl that with total respect to whoever T.A. is.)

Didn't drink Friday, but bought terrible wine on Saturday--or, wait, Sunday? Yeah, Sunday. Some kind of Pinot Grigio, but tasting of ass. Which is good, because I won't mind throwing it out after two glasses. Drinking is re-escalating in frequency, in a gradual way that I'm noticing from the corner of my jaundiced eye. I'm thinking of going to the liquor store tonight.

Along with the wine, bought a trashy piece of cake, the kind you find in supermarket delis--some kind of "praline" frosted thing, not stale, but vaguely unfresh in the way that such treats are. Also bought the saltiest potato chips ever. Wolfed praline in the car, in the supe parking lot--imagined myself being caught in a glare of headlights like a feral animal, praline smeared across my face. Came home, had some chips and wine. Felt...not quite digust, but some other almost similar emotion stirred by chip, frosting, and wine consumption. I'm sure you can relate, dear reader.

Went to the gym tonight, which is the only place I ever weigh myself. Have not lost any more weight, and may have gained back a few ounces, though if I concentrate and squeeze my eyes real hard, I can convince myself it's, say, water bloat. Or slightly heavier jeans.

Then there's work...

Oh, fuck it.

My life is lame.


 
 
anorakbird on February 10th, 2003 08:30 pm (UTC)
That weight is your soul. YOUR SOUL!!!
It's a known fact that Elvis weighed much less just after his death than he did when he was alive. It was your soul that added the ounces, sinner.
Anna S.eliade on February 10th, 2003 09:34 pm (UTC)
Re: That weight is your soul. YOUR SOUL!!!
Do souls weigh more, the more you sin? What a thought. Every politician must have a ripe, juicy watermelon of a soul. I think mine is a shriveled kiwi. I'm rather boring. Though, come to think--if we go by deadly sins rather than mortal sins, my soul takes on a resemblance to certain species of whale.

Incidentally, Gandhi's Seven Deadly Sins are:

* Wealth without Work
* Pleasure without Conscience
* Science without Humanity
* Knowledge without Character
* Politics without Principle
* Commerce without Morality
* and Worship without Sacrifice.

By that list, I think I'm doing much better.

anorakbird on February 10th, 2003 09:43 pm (UTC)
Re: That weight is your soul. YOUR SOUL!!!
Well, speaking as a onetime Catholic, I can tell you that practically everything is a sin for some fucking reason. My ticket to hell is being bought with frequent flyer miles earned for sins of the mind, primarily, but it's probably a sin to buy a Vanilla Coke instead of giving my $1.79 to the homeless, and there's just no way I'm not going to hell for using so much cream cheese on my bagels.

Wasn't it Pearl Forrester who said "Take my soul; I wasn't using it anyway."?
(Anonymous) on February 10th, 2003 09:07 pm (UTC)
I can get behind being face down in a pillow
Or something. *blush*

>> I'm not happy with the fabulous prose stylings of Anna S. right now. <<

But you have yet to decide exactly what you want those to be, yes? So maybe you *are* doing what you want. You just don't know. Or haven't decided. Something like that. (I tell myself this type of thing all the time.)

>> Felt...not quite digust, but some other almost similar emotion stirred by chip, frosting, and wine consumption. <<

You get to do this sometimes. You DO. Sometimes, you do. It's there for you. It's your own personal form of booty call. You won't go to wine/chip/frosting Hell. Sometimes, you need it, you want it, you do it. If you know it's there for you, it can even be easier to resist. (Like that bottle stashed in the back of the drawer.) So you know you can give in to it occasionally, and you let that comfort you when you're feeling frustrated. You sound frustrated.

How about trying something new and really adventerous? Scare the crap out of yourself and see if you feel any better after. *g*

CC
Anna S.eliade on February 10th, 2003 09:30 pm (UTC)
Re: I can get behind being face down in a pillow
I can get behind being face down in a pillow
Or something. *blush*


Heh. I didn't actually specify what was playing in my head while I was pillow-kissing, and it's probably best if I don't. Perhaps I can just cryptically say "Visigoths" and people who read my LJ will say ahhhh, and nod knowingly. Note the new code word: Visigoths.

How about trying something new and really adventerous? Scare the crap out of yourself and see if you feel any better after. *g*

Hmm. Am trying to figure out how to apply this advice. My last two adventures were renting "Fear.com" and putting salt in my pasta sauce. Neither turned out well. Apparently "adventure" is in desperate need of redefinition....
(Anonymous) on February 10th, 2003 11:12 pm (UTC)
Re: I can get behind being face down in a pillow
>> Note the new code word: Visigoths. <<

What, not 'Grandma'? *snerk*

>> My last two adventures were renting "Fear.com" and putting salt in my pasta sauce. <<

Wow, you do walk on the wild side. And here I was thinking sky-diving, maybe. How tame of me. *g*

CC
(Anonymous) on February 11th, 2003 03:08 am (UTC)
purple....thistle...?

*is a random lj-less lurker brought here by Noir, which she has still not feedbacked, and is consequently out of the loop*
WE WILL SEE AT THE END OF LIFE, NO?tsamm on February 11th, 2003 07:16 am (UTC)
Wolfed praline in the car, in the supe parking lot--imagined myself being caught in a glare of headlights like a feral animal, praline smeared across my face.

I love this image. I can't get it out of my head. It should be in a movie.

Felt...not quite digust, but some other almost similar emotion stirred by chip, frosting, and wine consumption. I'm sure you can relate, dear reader.

*considers landscape of empty pizza boxes and chocolate wrappers in apartment* Indeed.