It’s raining, and I’m hungry. Read all about it!

What bothers me about quitting smoking is not that it’s hard, it’s that it’s hard to even want to.

I want to want to quit. But I don’t really want to quit. So there’s no point trying. It was the same with dieting… I wanted to lose weight and stuff but I didn’t want to actually stop eating so much. So I failed any time I tried to change my eating habits. Then one day it just got really easy. Because I didn’t want to eat like a pig any more. And here we are, awesome at starving! Easy. But it would have been impossible if I didn’t wake up a month or so ago and say, fuck food as a hobby. I’m going to eat to get my nutrients on.

Same with smoking. I just really wish I’d hurry up and change my mind about smoking. I wish I didn’t enjoy smoking so much. I have already written pathetically about my feeble desire not to die of cancer, but it’s a cyclical thing. It swells up every now and then and I give up for a few days or a week and get so cocky about my success that I start planning to write a book about how easy it is and help everyone else achieve my natural state of enlightenment. And then one day I’m really fucking bored and I convince myself that essentially one cigarette a day is the same as none, and I can just have ONE a day, and I will be fine. And then I’m like, actually one time I got a taxi when drunk and had a big heart to heart with a taxi driver and he said anything less than 10 a day is nothing, it’s like breathing in city air. And he must have been right because of taxi driver wisdom. Do not argue with taxi driver wisdom. So I say I’m allowing myself five a day, and I’ll be fine. And I remember some anecdote about a doctor who smoked five a day and said there were no health risks, which I don’t know where I heard but I believe also. So then five is cool, and maybe one night I want to smoke more than five, well I just won’t smoke the next day, but then I do, but it doesn’t matter, it’s just a slip up. And then 10… and then who’s counting? Not I.

Smoking again.

And that’s how it always goes. Plus, the bars over here… you can smoke inside a lot of them. It’s hard not to smoke when it’s the most entertaining thing to do with your boring as a pile of turds company. Ugh so sick of impressing the socks off everyone only for them to turn aruond and have the personality of a tic. Ahhh I can’t wait to get home and bump chests with my buds, my pals, my chummy chum chums, and laugh…. Getting a bit melancholy here with these background filler people. Getting a bit melancholy in general…

Stumbled across Fine Young Cannibals on a rediscover music quest through folders…. and it’s really feeding the moody retro rainy day pensive buzz… If only I had a window seat I could sit and watch the drops and rivulets land and disperse down the glass while the cityscape outside is blurred from vision, and have that represent something like how isolated I feel from the city I live in, or something. Yeah I have to stop listening to this genre of music it is not good for me, it’s too fucking indulgent. Does not mesh well with new badass divorce-lovin awesome wannabe maneater heartless bitch persona I am cultivating. Ooohh no I’m getting the bus home soon in this rain, it’s poignant as hell listening to this shit on my “supposed to be for the tv” headphones that cover my entire head and keep away the perverts who just wanted to ask for directions (fucking whatever) and watching rain fall… balls. Another 45 minutes introspective welling up of emotions lies ahead….

Got the bus home. Actually managed not to fall into the Joni Mitchell trap, remembered had a book in my bag (it’s a ridiculous bag, I can lose books in it for weeks.) and started re-reading A Confederacy of Dunces… laughing to myself… and so it wasn’t suitable to be listening to things that make me sad and pensive. So I stuck on some upbeat tunes that I’ve never associated with a man I wanted to acquire but who didn’t want me, and that helped my mood considerably.

Then I got home realised I’m really fucking hungry so thought hey lets treat ourselves, and I opened a tin of tuna and had that. Fucking ravenously hungry! Still hungry. Wow real hunger… you know you eat like a pig long enough you forget what it’s like to be so fucking hungry your stomach feels like it’s eating its own walls nom nom nom tastes like meat… except of course stomach has no taste buds.

Ok I don’t want to give you a play by play of everything I did today, but yeah, I already went there. So there’s nothing else to eat now in the house… except muesli.

Happy freaking weekend to you too, it’s muesli time. (there aint no party like a muesli party cause a muesli party don’t… exist)



2 responses to “It’s raining, and I’m hungry. Read all about it!

  1. I had to google what the hell muesli was. Now I feel stupid. Careful starving yourself MFO. It’s almost the exact opposite. The body stores fat cells whenever it feels hungry.

    I logged onto my gmail mail account today and noticed my account has filed all your new post as important, which succeeds anything else in my inbox. Oh that gmail. And it’s mind of it’s own.

  2. Exactly as it should be, young padawan…. gmail knows the score. And don’t worry about me, I have a banana every time I feel a bit dodgy, or a handful of dry muesli. I CHALLENGE this body to find some fat to store. Exactly. Exactly.

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