Verbal Release

Four hours of sleep later and here I am. Brewing up some jo, trying to blink the fatigue sting from my eyes, and getting ready to labor over some junior college homework. For being as tired as I am, I do feel pretty good. I also look forward to the nap I will reward myself with later this afternoon.

It has been a week or two since last I posted. I notice most when I am in the midst of my life and I begin to narrate my activities. When I try to colorfully elaborate or romanticize such things as waiting in the drive through or taking the festering trash out or groggily straining to keep my balance and aim true whilst I pee in the early dawn. This here little blog of my mine has become a place of meditation and reflection. A sanctuary.

I’ve been trying to be more chaste with my life this autumn, no sugar, no booze; more fruit, more veggies. For the most part I am succeeding in this venture. I do recall a time or two where I had honey roasted nuts or I asked for two sugars in my McDonald’s coffee, but I don’t count those. Too miniscule. The reason for all this, I had a few days strung together where I was feeling particularly dark. I wanted to minimize the length or depth of any possible depressive funk and my defense for such is to deny the vices. So far, so good.

School goes well. The last week was spent catching up. Stressful, yes, but a necessary lesson on being a student; don’t get behind. I got behind. I spent a weekend and a handful of hours drawing a portrait for a friend’s birthday. Despite the altruistic intent, school still frowned upon me attempting to take the time. Every fifteen minutes I could find this week were spent reading or attempting to cobble up sentences that sounded cohesive. Becoming very familiar with sleep deprivation. Turning in homework a hair’s breadth from it’s due date. I have been exceedingly frugal with my time and efforts.

I miss my art and I miss my book. I have been unable to toil on the forever project honestly or earnestly. It has been uncounted weeks since last I wrote or drew or overestimated how close I was to finishing. I miss all the masochistic self torture . . . Wistful sigh, soon enough I will be back at it. Patience as time is allotted. Wait for the lull in life then go.

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