(no subject)
For the past few months, I've wanted to get a dog. The urge is finally getting strong enough that I've started browsing for dog-friendly apartments. I'm not really sure if I want to stay on the hill or try another part of town. There's a lot of convenience to being where I am. I'm also finding that, ignoring the lack of storage, I have a kick-ass apartment for an amazingly cheap rent. I'm 3.5 miles from work, an easy 10 minute commute by car (since Metro seems to take an hour). I know the neighborhood; I know my neighbors. I've made peace with most of the chronic alcoholics and homeless panhandlers. When there's a band playing or a show I want to see, it's most likely a 15 min walk-- easy to sneak out for a bit, even on a school night. I know bartenders who slip me drinks and bouncers who refuse to charge me cover. I know quiet hangouts away from the hipsters and meth-addled queers. I know restaurants where the chef never lets me order from the menu. I know baristas who make my morning espresso just right and intuitively know whether I'm in the mood for an americano or machiatto.
Truth is, there's something missing.
I wandered over to Green Lake to watch Tom Read sensei's outdoor jo kata workshop. The jo is the bain of my training, my least favorite weapon. I don't like the weight; it doesn't feel right in my hands. After watching for an hour, I wanted to join the training. Maybe I just haven't spent enough time with it.
Whatever gut problems I had were largely gone, but now they've returned. The other night I dug up an old bottle of Klonopin and set it on the counter, debating whether to take it. It's the only medicine that works. It's effects are almost immediate. It's also the sniper drug and it leaves me shell-shocked for days. Unfortunately, the good it does for my stomach only lasts as long as the vertigo, slurred speech and ataxia. I have yet to take it, resorting to a restricted diet and lots of peppermint-fennel-chamomile tea.
Truth is, there's something missing.
I wandered over to Green Lake to watch Tom Read sensei's outdoor jo kata workshop. The jo is the bain of my training, my least favorite weapon. I don't like the weight; it doesn't feel right in my hands. After watching for an hour, I wanted to join the training. Maybe I just haven't spent enough time with it.
Whatever gut problems I had were largely gone, but now they've returned. The other night I dug up an old bottle of Klonopin and set it on the counter, debating whether to take it. It's the only medicine that works. It's effects are almost immediate. It's also the sniper drug and it leaves me shell-shocked for days. Unfortunately, the good it does for my stomach only lasts as long as the vertigo, slurred speech and ataxia. I have yet to take it, resorting to a restricted diet and lots of peppermint-fennel-chamomile tea.