Personal Diary / Journal - art, addiction and a whole lotta love

2020 May 03 Sunday

I fashioned a small stool out of big books. My parents wanted to give most of their book collection away and asked what we would like to keep. We chose lots of books, most of them self-help that i enjoyed about 10 years ago. Now i'm sitting on Stephen Hawking, Gaudi, Umberto Eco, and something else specific to our country. I don't know if i ever will study them more thoroughly, i've only just skimmed through them like magazines, except for Stephen Hawking which i didn't understand much of and dropped. I guess you could say i'm using these books for the journey inward, as physical objects aiding a bit in my comfort. The stool. Such a luxury. Yesterday evening about i caught myself laying on the floor with my feet perched on the couch. I rearranged myself so i would be on hard surfaces with all the parts of my body. Then when we finally went to bed, the softness was so good.

It feels really good to renounce the luxury of sitting on cushions. It's more than the discipline and doing something productive, it's satisfying on a deeper level, sort of puts things into perspective. The couch is no longer a given, it's an object of desire. The only thing i have for softness is a folded t-shirt that i use for my head when i'm laying down. The lack of softness makes me feel like i'm roughing it, it feels like a big step up sort of. Hope it lasts.

The waiting of the minute before i smoke is good as well. To not have cigarettes so ready makes it a conscious decision all the time to smoke, i'm not just lighting up out of habit. There's a cost to it. Apparently it just being poison is not enough to deliberate whether i should smoke all the time or not. Go figure. Goes to show how the mind fumbles and how easy it is to trick it.

It's a quarter to seven. I woke up an hour and a half ago with a bad dream. It was about Baby Love being a sex worker and sleeping with someone who in the same night slept with 99 other people. One in a hundred. She said this to me and i told her she's one in a million. Sort of like two meanings, one that she should think of herself as special, and the irony that she was only one in the hundred that evening. At least in my dream i didn't explain the irony. I couldn't go back to sleep immediately and i thought to myself, this is the perfect opportunity to wake up earlier, so i did.

My back hurts from sitting hunched over so much. On the couch or in bed it's not a problem because my back is supported, but now the only thing supporting my back are muscles, my backbone and the huge amount of lard in front. Well, not that huge.

I haven't lost any weight since using the floor as the main support surface, but i do feel lighter, which means i'm in better shape and burning more calories. Instead, i've finished a couple of meals before the food was over on my plate which reflects the change in mindset. My body and mind are thankful for this change in comfort.

[..] truth is, i wouldn't mind so much if Baby Love had been a sex worker. I just wouldn't want to know any details.

[..] some keyboard keyboards to a dj set:
Nqoienrnenrmlancjdksksksnrekkekflipinfjrjtfhrjtkjgnhbasdasdasdasdpajdkelchchindwrrtortortortonybewhqqqqqqqqqhefps[p[pskle973973973973nefhnefjkljfnedsjaidnwgjpowgjpwgjpwgjpwgjpwgjpo0oejrkl4nfd.    Fgrhen.  Ebdjjjjhjhjhhfhdjhfjdkoekndcja. Djwn. Bdfkije
Gkltpkjenrmemrnemrnemrnemrnemrnemrnemrnemrnemrnembsjsjsjsjsjsjsjsjbadooddndooodndooodndooodndooodndooodndooodndooodnkelkrjenejnjenjenjenjenjenjen

Pretty satisfying. The keyboard produces sound anyway, so it's a combination of my typing pleasure and the sound and it has a bonus, it produces letters as well. You can read it, sort of.