Impotent Rage


Wednesday, March 12, 2003
Right.
Eric has made me move my blogging over to his higher profile Yankthechain site.
I don't know if that means this site is done with. I'm thinking of doing double duty. How prolific would that make me?
Anyway, go over there to see what's up. I think it looks good...


Saturday, March 08, 2003
I haven't been sleeping well, but in a good way.
My days are filled. I try to get to work as early as possible (when you're paid by the hour and you like money, you try to collect as many hours as are available), which means waking up in the morning. Since I still go out at night, though, I've got candles burning all over the place, on all sides.
So I'm tired. But it's a good tired.
Unfortunately, for the last two weeks, it's amounted to my crashing much earlier than desired on Friday nights. Each of the beginning weekend evenings, I've had to go home with an activity or two unbegun, just so I could stop yawning and get to sleep. It's not the best way to be, but it'll do.
So I say...


Friday, March 07, 2003
There is nothing in the world quite like free eats.
Somebody had a birthday here in the office, and there was pizza. I'm not even sure what was on it. Feta cheese and I think some meat, probably a pork product - but I can't be sure.
It was good. I had too much of it, as I usually do when there's free eats. All part of the Poverty Diet, see...
But since my weight loss, it's possible that what used to be too much food and what is now too much food are very different creatures. Maybe not. It's hard to tell. All I know is, today, I had some of the leftover pie from this birthday, and now I have cheese face.
Does anybody else know of this? I described it to people the last time I gorged on too much pizza, and they looked at me funny. Funnier than usual, I should say...
When you eat too much pizza (and you're me, I should say), you feel it in your face. There's a bloat, there's a grease, there's a smell that is uniquely pizza-ey, and particularly cheesey. Does anyone else know of this? Anyone? Anyone at all?
Maybe I'm alone in this, as I am so many other things.
Sigh...
I have cheese face.


Thursday, March 06, 2003
Aashish, the only person who reads this page religiously (I know others visit, but he contacts me regularly to ensure I update [GET A LIFE, AASHISH!}), calls me Fatman. I’m not sure if it applies anymore.
I’m not a thin man, not by any means. My bone structure’ll always leave me huskier than most, and my incredibly unhealthy eating habits will probably make the husk even greater, but I’m not the enormous individual I once was. I’ve lost thirty pounds lately, and this in the coldest winter I remember.
I hope to hit another ten or fifteen as the weather warms.
I had stopped eating in December, thanks to heartache, heartbreak and anxiety. That seems to be mostly over, so I’m eating better, and by better, I mean badly.
I think I need to rethink the Poverty Diet.
Maybe I should explain the Poverty Diet at some point…
Anyway, I'm not Fat. I might even be lighter than Aashish, who's added a little bit to his middle - as well as his fat head.


At work, I wear a tie and a jacket. Since it’s office casual in the Documents Group, I’m severely over-dressed, but I find that it’s necessary. It’s necessary for a couple of reasons:
a) none of my clothes fit me. Well, there’s one pair of tan slacks I bought in ’98, back when I approached being thin, and they fit. But everything else swims on me. Shirts that I had to breathe carefully to button around the neck now are several sizes large. The jacket and tie cover up how the belt has new holes and the pants bunch in the back.
b) I can leave a paperback in my breast pocket, so when I’m bored, and I head to the bathroom, I don’t need to sneak any reading material. It’s with me all the time.
I look fairly snazzy in my overdressed way. I’ve been told over the years that suits become me, and by girls, but girls who are friends, who don’t really care if I wear a sexy suit or not. And these aren’t suits anyhow – just a jacket and tie, so I guess it’s not exactly the same thing.
The book I’m reading right now is Short Shorts, a collection of the shortest short stories. I have a collection of even shorter stories called Flash Fiction, and one even tinier, called World’s Shortest Fiction (55-word stories – sometimes shorter than my poetry!). I’d be reading these ADD collections if they could fit in my breast pocket; but they can’t. They’re trade paperbacks.
I don’t think there’s a lesson in that for anyone…


Friday, February 21, 2003
So I'm working now.
Have been for two weeks. I'm doing data entry at a midtown law-firm.
It's good to be in an office again, good, particularly in this inclimate weather, to have something specific to do with my days.
It's bad having to wake up in the morning, lousy to be working with insufficient sleep.
It's good to have frequent internet access.
It's bad not being able to surf all my favorite porn sites.
It's good to get paid.
It's bad to not be paid enough, for enough hours.
It's good to have the chance to take lunch but bad to skip it, since a) I don't eat much these days; and b) I want to work more hours.
It's a mixed bag being back to work. But at least I'm thin and beautiful.


Thursday, February 20, 2003
Yesterday, I had chocolate cake for lunch.
I didn't eat again until I got home at midnight. It was strange. I used to do that all the time - though maybe there was more food in-between.
Is this a sign that I'm eating better, treating myself better?
I dunno. All I know is I had cake for lunch. It was delicious.


Sunday, February 02, 2003
I've been bound up by the double-restrictions put upon me in the last submission.
Between Eric wanting me to do this higher-profile blog on Yankthechain.com, and my exceedingly limited internet time, I've been unable/unwilling to produce content. Which I really should, because things are happening.
I'm thin.
I'm poor.
I'm exceedingly less miserable.
I'm without an uncle.
I'm writing less well, but almost as often.
I'm in Brooklyn right now, but I don't how relevant that is.
The library's about to close. I better go.