maybe Bukowski got it right

Safe to say my appreciation for Bukowski and his works keeps growing. So much so that the lifestyle he writes of actually seems appealing. It’s always writing, gambling, sex, and drinking. It wasn’t problem free, but it was simpler and he got along pretty well.

I spent the last week mostly offline. I checked things, but as for myself, I chose to remain silent. A digital vow of silence, maybe. Mainly because I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. And though I definitely needed a distraction this past week (and still do), I decided it wouldn’t be from social media.

I started out by deciding I wasn’t going to eat myself into a stupor. Food wasn’t truly going to give me that feeling of fullness that I wanted, so I wasn’t going to go down that road. Plus, that weekend when I tried to eat, it just didn’t turn out so well―french fries were the only thing that was remotely appetizing (I took one bite of my gyro meat and had to put it away). A lot of people have been doing juice cleanses lately, and while I can’t shell out $225 just for 3 days of juice, I did find a local alternative that hasn’t been too bad price wise…

The colors are amazing, but I’ve got to say, I really do like that green juice―a raw “Greenberry” from Protein Bar, a mix of kale, apple, lime, and strawberry (I request no cilantro due to allergies). The carrot juice looked cool, but drinking a carrot just wasn’t my thing. My stomach’s still a bit on-and-off, but I’ve been doing better.

Another thing that’s helped is that I decided to buy a Nook Tablet on Tuesday after work. Glad that I stopped waiting around to get this―I’m damn near close to finishing my 4th book on it. (Finished all of the Hunger Games, now onto His Dark Materials―aka The Golden Compass.) It’s easier not thinking about what’s going on right now and the emotions I’m dealing with by just slipping away into literature. Children’s fantasy seems to be doing the trick nicely.

Ignoring the issue seems like the only option. I don’t really know how to talk about it, nor do I feel comfortable doing so in such a public manor. I’m not in a downward spiral of depression, but nor am I filled with joy and elation. A lot of times I just feel like I’m empty―just moving laterally. It’s neither happy or sad or angry… or anything really. I’m just moving from A hoping that I’ll find my way to B.

“Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you’ve felt that way.” ― Charles Bukowski