(no subject)
Erf. Kind of up and down the past week. Thursday I was feeling well enough to do a little exposure-therapy on myself in the form of doing shots of vodka (inebriation being as close as I can get to triggering a hypochondriacal reaction to medication without risking an OD), and that went well. Friday night, when I arguably needed it more, went less so and despite not pushing it I'm still having the odd spell of jitters. Additionally, a helpful rash of thunderstorms is making my head pound. I am medicating when necessary.
Running with other neighborhood dogs almost every night of the week is having the unexpected side-effect of making the beast better behaved . . . I guess. He's started waiting for my permission at the base of the gate even if it's already open and, bizarrely, allowed my to dissuade him from chasing a roller blader despite a lack of leash or any other control device. It's uncharacteristic verging on actively creepy. Less creepy and more disgusting is that he's developed some boils on his belly which I strongly suspect to be a resurgence of allergies. After a useless week of appealing to my father, I showed my mother. I'm hoping she got him in today, before the rash achieves
Current free-writing is plotless and fragmentary, which is fine for the context. It's something like the sixth time I've tried to work on the same basic idea. I think the main problem is tone. I tend to adopt that lofty, vaguely pretentious tone with certain subjects which bores me even as I write. Need to work on that. But I am proud I finished pencils at work today; usually I work at home, but I was so behind this weekend I thought what the hell. And I finished it all before my boss even showed up, so, you know, win. Less to do when I get home.
That's all I got. It's no wonder I don't post much.
Running with other neighborhood dogs almost every night of the week is having the unexpected side-effect of making the beast better behaved . . . I guess. He's started waiting for my permission at the base of the gate even if it's already open and, bizarrely, allowed my to dissuade him from chasing a roller blader despite a lack of leash or any other control device. It's uncharacteristic verging on actively creepy. Less creepy and more disgusting is that he's developed some boils on his belly which I strongly suspect to be a resurgence of allergies. After a useless week of appealing to my father, I showed my mother. I'm hoping she got him in today, before the rash achieves
Current free-writing is plotless and fragmentary, which is fine for the context. It's something like the sixth time I've tried to work on the same basic idea. I think the main problem is tone. I tend to adopt that lofty, vaguely pretentious tone with certain subjects which bores me even as I write. Need to work on that. But I am proud I finished pencils at work today; usually I work at home, but I was so behind this weekend I thought what the hell. And I finished it all before my boss even showed up, so, you know, win. Less to do when I get home.
That's all I got. It's no wonder I don't post much.