I don’t feel cranky or bitchy these days, quite the opposite – honestly I feel like I’m radiating goodwill - but I know people are getting that impression. To me it just feels like I’ve finally given up suffering fools, and I swear I’m being polite about it, but people get so pissy when you call them on their shit. You know? Even when it’s things a reasonable person just can’t ignore. Anyways, onwards and upwards.
It’s a bit odd, but I’m now physically incapable of smoking cigarettes, even one or two at Italian class. I can still smoke grass, though. Even nasty old grass. Finally, my psychomology is being utilitarian, instead of just convincing me the Rat King is lurking under my bed to punish me if I stray from the tenets of my Catholic forefathers. It’s just as well though. My emotional situation is one that would have had me reaching for cigarettes a year ago, if only so I could take lots of breaks at work, and go outside, and dream, and dream, and dream . . . now I just sit at my desk and dream.
Anyways, I’m happy and all but so fucking tired of wanting time to pass. I want to savour time. I want every minute to feel absolutely fucking desirable. The gym helps. Honestly. If you do hard enough things, your muscles squeeze thinking right out of your brain. I’m going right now.