Being for the period 12th - 25th September…
bulk :: 16st 1
cigarettes smoked :: 0
alcohol taken :: 6 bottles of wine
gym visits :: 7
apples eaten :: 23
bananas eaten :: 12
kilos of spinach eaten :: 2
biscuits eaten :: 2 packets of chocolate Hob Nobs (oops)
milk drunk :: 10 pints (semi-skimmed)
blogs I want to write :: 1 (This one. I refuse to believe this is really written by the Honey Monster. I want the job. They could pay me in Sugar Puffs.)
emotional maelstroms :: 2
After the Carnival of Shame that was last week, I have some catching up to do with the feedback.
Where to start? Ah, yes, the ladies...
Things have gone awry with Morag and I. We’re still buddies of course. We just don’t fuck anymore. There’ll be more about this on Monday.
I can’t pretend not to be upset about it. Actually I can. I did pretend just the other day. But it’s useless. It’s a tissue. (Bless me.) Transparent as a teenage boy. I am upset about it. I’m upset at how it came about. I’m upset at how easily it could have been different. I’m upset at what’s going to happen next. Because it’s screamingly obvious.
Anyway, Monday, Monday. Morag Monday.
Unfortunately, there is more. Upheaval, that is. I mean, I know that change is what life is all about, but I really wouldn’t mind a bit of stability for once; a bit of constancy. Emotional constancy if nothing else.
But anyway. Last weekend. It wasn’t all self-pity and kitten-play. I also went to visit my dad for the first time in a very long time. And it was weird. It was very weird. Mostly it was weird because it was like meeting a different man. He is - as they say - a shadow of his former self. This however, is a good thing. He is not the man he used to be and thank fuck for that because the man he used to be was an utter shit.
There is, unsurprisingly, a great deal to be said about the whole business, not least because my father told me things that I never knew, things which if they are true, change everything and must be acted upon. But before I write about it here I must go over the whole thing myself – my childhood, my parents, the faults they filled me up with, the screens they had me build (I mentioned I’m reading Families and How to Survive Them; it’s helping me to understand). Plus I have to figure out what I think about the new information.
I’m all at sixes and sevens to be honest. (What a peculiar expression that is. I like it.)
Everything else seems kind of trivial by comparison. I’m still going to the gym, still eating a lot of fruit and vegetables (mostly spinach), still giving in to the occasional Hob Nob binge, still drinking too much wine. My weight is still inching in the right direction, but some of the fat is slowly being replaced by muscle, which is nice and appeals to my (perhaps surprisingly acute) sense of vanity.
Speaking of spinach, spinach is my new thing. What I tend to do is this: I empty a 250g packet of the stuff into a massive pan and then I pour boiling water over it. It’s done in about a minute. Maybe less. Then I get rid of as much of the water as I can and I pour the mushrooms I’ve been frying in olive oil and chilli all over the spinach. Then, if I’m feeling particularly deserving, I sprinkle some grated cheese over the top. It’s damn good, I tell you.
This is my life.
In other news, my piles are petering out. The pain has stopped completely, which is a godsend, but there is still occasionally quite a lot of blood. Sometimes it’s a shock to look down into the bowl after what has been an ostensibly smooth movement and observe what looks like the aftermath of a particularly grisly murder. Sometimes I can see the blood dripping slowly from my back door, splashing into the mess beneath. Sometimes I think it would be best not to talk about these things in public, but then I think, if people didn’t talk about these things, we’d still be living in the Dark Ages. Sometimes I think we are still living in the Dark Ages. Sometimes I think I think too much. Sometimes I don’t.
Speaking of medical matters, the stomach pain stopped on 7th September. No reason that I can think of. It was really bad on the Saturday and then it stopped. So I didn’t go back to the doctor. I didn’t want to tempt fate.
Time to get on. Things to do.
Have a great weekend. What are you doing by the way? Anything interesting?