Your cocktail sir,





2003-05-16 - 3:17 p.m.

I almost beat the shit out of my car this morning. I wanted to scream profanities at it while kicking the tires. Maybe douse it in some lighter fluid and threaten it with a match. But thatís only because Iím unstable this week, this week without employ. I would have felt terrible if I had given into the impulse of connecting hammer with glass. I was glad there was no spray paint around to mark the green finish. And I was especially glad that I was able to hold it all together at the Brake place when they came in and told me a) what was wrong b) how they could fix it and c) the price to enact b) and fix a).

It was c) that might have gotten me on Cops.

I walked away, not abandoning my car, but not looking at it. Went and had lunch. Thought about sketching some stuff. Achieved the equilibrium that was missing when Felix handed me that pink slip of paper.

At times like these, I tend to waffle back and forth between wishing with futility that I could go back in time and do things differently and being able to objectively identify the bad choices that brought me to my current situation. One is healthy, the other immature. Part of the waffling doesnít allow me to decide which. Itís like having blinders. I saw the Behind the Music about Heart, and during one of the interview segments Ann Wilson talks about how she never felt fat, never realized that she was getting bigger and bigger, she never realized. I feel like that sometimes about my maturity. And other things. Never the weight though. I am CONSTANTLY reminded about that.

previous - next

Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

- - 2007-07-11

Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

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