On Saturday I went to Johnny's for the first time in a while. Wound up writing out a prologue/background for this story knocking around my head since December of 2009. I started writing it in Staten Island and based it on the neighborhood where I briefly lived with Leah. I'm glad I was writing and felt myself get into the groove. Reckon I was radiating purpose because one of the bouncers came over to enquire what I was writing about that night. Gave him the long version of the section of the story I was writing then went back to my endeavor. Funny thing is I don't think Calliope was my muse and that creativity was coming from within.

Pain in my foot is nearly gone but I'm being cautious. Still have anxiety over the future. Sent a voice memo to my friend Wednesday, with a preamble saying it's important for me to hear the words come out of my mouth, that there's plenty of time and our respective searches require patience and diligence.

At work I've moved on from doing twelve reps with 12 pound / 5.4 kg dumbbells and began doing fifteen reps with 15 pound / 6.8 kg dumbbells. Going to continue these exercises until I feel it's time to scale up to the 20 pound dumbbells. No rush, no challenges, just me and myself trying to get exercise and strengthen my arms.

On Monday, after work, I bought two chocolate bars and ate them. Not the best thing I could've done but I've done much worse in the past.

My current struggle, aside from anxiety over the future, is wondering why I keep having an urge to reach out to Leah and lean on her when I really shouldn't engage with her in that fashion.

I joined a new Discord channel and was talking about BoneQuest and how I'll re-listen to my BoneQuest Hi-Fis, sometimes by accident, only to be surprised at how many of them turned out to be good. This morning I re-listened to my Farts Of Space stream from last week. I equated this potential narcissism to a camwhore I knew who was notorious for masturbating to videos of herself masturbating online. One of the members of the Discord channel kindly said, "The old master who takes the time to appreciate their past works."

Maybe I am selling myself short? Maybe I should shoot for the moon and be happy to wind up in another gutter? At the moment I have no confidence and I want to just do something rather than be complacent. Life, at the moment, doesn't feel like I have the luxury of complacency.

an old dream from 8/29/2015

Let's see how well I remember last night's dream.

I end up in Maine, visiting my friend who runs the International Cryptozoology Museum. He's showing me the new building the museum will be moving into next year. The space is twice the size of the current location, and I ask how he's going to cycle exhibits with the understanding he probably doesn't have enough to fill the new location. I tell him I'd be happy to come up and help move Crookston.

Outside isn't Maine anymore, but Siberia. Weather's freezing for late August and a girl's urging me to follow her. We're hiking across ice-slicked trails, hazardous with loops of tree roots, hoping to reach the top of a ridge. Behind us, a bunch of guys in Adidas wear burst out of the woods and chase us to a nearby house. My bright idea, "I'm going to make meatballs, that'll show we're friends!".

Cooking commences and the dream begins to fade out as the thugs enter our refuge.

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