May 15

 Odd day today.

Pretty damn good. Highs. And then lows. Complicated.

I dragged myself out of bed this morning for an early walk with Athena and Monika around abouts the UEA. I didn't end up sleeing til gone 4am, so, a 9am start was oof.

Still. Nice walk. With one of my favourite people. We talked about her job, her ongoing therapy, and her upcoming wedding. And my diet. And a general smoosh of things. Athena was on good form, several trips to the river, and a number of exemplary older lady polite greetings of other younger excitable pups.

And no feeling ill. My day of withdrawal yesterday seems to have done some good. And I have stayed off the bread entirely, wholemeal or otherwise. And avoided fibre in general. I feel a good deal better.

Came home and have noodled with art all day. A lot of it fruitlessly, but it hasn't frustrated me or dented my enthusiasm. A number of hours spent chasing my tail over Just The Right kind of texture and getting nowhere, but, it was ok. I dunno. Perhaps in my older age I have reached some zen level of noodling.

But through it all, a thread of sadness. Of course. It's me. Some sharp and glittering thread of deep sadness shifting around like a multi faceted crystalline serpent that writhes around inside, touching nerves and spiking shivers of that aching sense of loss you feel in your stomach. That familiar gut clench. And ache. Like someone reaching in with a fist full of knives.

I sat and listened to some music from my younger times whilst I arted. Millennial punky rocky grunge malarkey. Full of anti authoritarianism, flippancy, anger, and alt perspectives. I'm fairly at home there. And it instilled a sense of fuck you. Fuck everything. Heh. Probably just the music. Or maybe that's the real me. Dig under all the layers of zen. A hurt little pouty emo punk angsting out at the world. Maybe all the sadness and misery is just the loss of hope and a sense of disappointment from that pouty emo self. The giving up and an embracing of the end. An evolution of being worn down.

Eh. Maybe. I definitely have that streak in me, counter culture, fuck the system, fuck your happiness, fuck your mainstream, fuck your social norms, fuck your neuro typical vanilla narrow minded drivel bullshit dealio. More obvious when I was younger - and left alone out of any influence of any social group I was chameleoning into. So most obvious then when I started working as an adult. But back then I was all fight, and no despair. Now I am no fight and all despair.

Ho hum.

Monika asked if I was going to get another dog. Not well enough. Can't keep up. Athena is fine, she's an old lady. An old lady for a worn out old man.

She said I needed a dog.

I didn't disagree.

I left the bit unspoken that just because I need one, doesn't mean to say I get one. There's an alternative. I can just go fuck myself. Not all stories, or possibly many at all, have happy endings.

We all deserve good health care, shelter, food and protection from stray bullets.

An enormous amount of people unfortunately don't get to have that.

That's life.

Who knows what the future holds.

But more than a little of me is grinning a demonic little smile in the dark and waiting for shit to wither and get bad. Yeah. Fuck me. Suffer dickhead. And then die. A delightful martyr to misery. And not getting a dog. Or having anyone around. Or even talking to people leans into that heavily. Just. Fucking die already. Tap out. Tap out. Exit. End Game. Turn off the PC. Fuck this shit.

Very emo.

Also. I can't say it's not right either.

Life eh. Fucking stupid chasing of tails in circles.