Higgups

As I mentioned (sort of) in the brief daily life (which isn't as brief or as daily or as life as first intended, but then, there should have been another started due to changes {that keep on changing} if only google did not have limits on how many blogs one account can have), I took a brief stroll down memory lane with half an eye and a few brain cells over the weekend and I still want to understand all of this and a whole lot more, but that has nothing to do with the thought it interrupted except to demonstrate how few brain cells took that stroll and how many other things are floating through the other brain cells as the sugar carb level is as high as it's been in over a year, or perhaps two years, and the agitation in the cranial capacitors is exhibiting signs of advanced stage ADHD, though some might consider borderlining it as some dementia-type disorder. Hey, we all have our crosses to bear, even atheists, babblers, and vegetables.

The will power that reduced weight and all the lab values to much healthier levels has waned considerably in the past month or two and the body is probably approaching 200 pounds, which is completely stupid and not at all comfortable, so I am making this declaration of independence from sugar-fat-carb-mania for the next few weeks or two months, whichever comes first. That is, back under 180 lbs or whatever time frame it takes to get there, then consider that 170 mark. We will not go quietly into the dark of night and fat and diabetic coma and fatty liver and whatever else might come of the typical American diet on steroids.

His majestic glory hole has spoken!

I found ants, tiny little sugar ants, crawling on the paper towels and plate and table next to the recliner in the living room, so I disinfected the tables and recliner and floor area around the recliner and kitchen too because TA said there are sugar ants in the summer here and I said I'll do my exterminator thing and see if I can stop them because I never had them in other places thanks to the science of poison and I'd rather not have them here. Expensive as it can be, I shall purchase the proper chemicals and destroy their habitat and paths into the living space as much as possible (even though my heart isn't really in it) and hopefully not damage my liver or kidneys or any other body parts (what brain?) along the way. Florida, sand, food, sugar ants.

I want attention, so I am uploading words again. Not that attention wants me, or I find any, for that matter, but doing nothing and wanting something is more or less depressing and doing something and buying into the delusion you are getting what you want is a happier place. At least that has been how it's worked for me lo these many years, in case you haven't noticed.

I spoke to Jackson about my method, this method, the method to my madness, babbling to someone I imagine really cares and is reading every word, because she can use some free therapy too and this is the best free therapy I know, babbling, completely open honesty free-association letting the words pour out withing thinking about the their meaning or the consequences, in case you were wondering what I was talking about, as if such an explanation could explain it.

I believe I am quite quantum.

I keep glancing around now and then to see if any of the tiny little ants have returned because, after all, there are several tables cluttered with stuff, papers and non-food items as gradually unpack the many boxes of stuff I pulled out of storage (not talking about the New York storage stuff, which may all be junk after all these years, but still I pay each month for the full 20' x 50' storage unit cuz I always have another excuse not to bring it all down here... some are really good, the excuses, but what a waste that could have paid for a Lexus by now. Waiting for the one or someone who wanted to share the journey of getting to know me through my boxes of memories and stuff and junk.

Will no one stay awake with me?

TA was out late tonight, watching the last season of Game of Thrones with friends. I did not realize what time it was when he walked in (a few minutes ago) and I will resist the late night french fries (Nathan's, no less) and whatever else he is cooking. We share similar eating habits and preferences, few of which are healthy, so I must be the strong one and distance myself from the habits while ot being anti-social or rude or grumpy or bitchy or fuckin Nathan's french fries, dammit!) cuz I will stop this crazy thing, even without Jane.

Speaking of Jane, she's cool and will be in another play soon and I've got to make time to head over there. I went to see her graduation performance from an Improv class she took a week or two ago and that was fun. She would be such a good influence for my health if we lived closer, or I would be a terrible influence on hers, since we do have similar dietary preferences. She just has a whole lot more will power than I do. Me not Tarzan, but she Jane.

I just remembered to put on my calendar the dates that Jackson asked me to pet sit, late July, I may take a five day weekend to enjoy their house and the animals and some privacy and peace and quiet (nt that it's not quiet here, it's very suburban quiet on this small cul-de-sac with just a half dozen houses, but she's got rural quiet which is a whole 'nother level of quiet). I'll send myself an email to remind myself to put the time off on my calendar at work so my boss and others know I won't be there those days. It's a good job in so many ways, mostly wonderful.

I forgot to take out the recycling bins and don't remember which day other than Monday the recycling is picked up and the box is getting really full since TA started putting stuff in it and since it's in my living room and I am not sure how clean the stuff in it is, I am going to put it out tomorrow and see if it goes away. Hopefully I will see others with their green bins out at the curb too.

I hear Dylan playing. TA has been on a Dylan kick lately and he likes his music (and TV) loud. Usually all night long as he falls asleep with either music or the TV on and even with his door closed and his bedroom more than 50 feet away, Dylan's wail is clear. I like Dylan, and music, and I used to sleep with music on too, so I don't mind at all. Maybe I'll get motivated to actually get back into music and (shock!) put together some mix-CDs. All I need is a computer that can burn CDs and a CD player. I have boxes of CDs in the garage and Jackson just game me more. Now where to put them? I suppose I need some sort of CD shelving too). Once upon a time, in storage in New York, there were walls of CDs in wall-unit CD cases. They are still there, actually. Thousands of CDs. Down here I only have hundreds. In boxes. In the garage. I really should move in.

I'd forgotten how much Dylan I've forgotten.

Or maybe that's I've forgotten how much Dylan I'd forgotten, but then, I don't remember much of anything in the moment. Memory is a useful tool that I keep on a shelf in a house in my head that I don't visit much anymore. It's safer that way. Happier too. I don't think humanity is ready for me to come out so I'll just stay inside. It is more of a house than a closet. I couldn't fit all my stuff in a closet, even with two storage units.

So are we there yet?

I've been here a very long time, writing to you and anyone who might stumble past. Giving you everything I've got, whatever comes to mind, and all my love. One day, perhaps, you will start interacting more regularly. Any of you. And the one of course. Inspire me to rhyme again, pour myself out through my pen, leave it all in words and song, how can we go wrong?

I'm going to close my eyes and watch my world unfold before me now.

Nite nite... and narf :)