Stream of Consciousness Crapola

[Hot Toddy wrote a stream of consciousness blog entry yesterday to clean mental house. I wanna do the same...here goes...]

[It's Friday afternoon, the boss left early, and Charlotte's off on a three-day weekend to Palm Springs. I'm alone in the office and can do whatever I want until the hot FedEx guy comes and I get to leave. One could get into a lot of trouble with an internet and an empty office, but one probably won't. Fuck, the phone...]

[If the phone's gonna ring maybe I can't do what I want. What I want is to write stream of consciousness like Toddy. What subjects have I been neglecting while writing dialogue and posting quiz results in this space? Chris, the Bar, money, depression, what's up with friends who drink too much and ruin the end of what had been a perfectly beautiful evening, how shall I choose to get laid as a newly single guy, why did I eat so much at lunch?]

[The only fallout with Chris has been the slowly fading fights I was having with him constantly in my mind. Fights I was having with my idea of him, that is, which is so not the same thing. The complete lack of drama nonplusses me in ways I can't describe: shouldn't eight months have left more mess in its wake? What does it mean that it hasn't? I wanna watch The O.C. with him once again, though.]

[I don't wanna take the Bar exam. I just don't. It's the only thing I can think to do this summer that's remotely useful, that will springboard forward change. As I wrote C., idle hands are the Devil's playground, and I have this incredible urge to misbehave incredibly this summer. Question: if I impose this regimen on myself...when! I mean when! ...will I just rebel like I did two years ago, fail to study effectively, and waste all that time and money? How can I make myself not do that?]

[Money. It sucks. I hate and fear my checking account. We aren't friends.]

[I spent Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday night after work in bed. Alone. Didn't go out, didn't watch T.V., and was asleep before 9 p.m. Woke up around six hours later each night, and really had to fight panic about all of the above issues. Was really conscious of real depression. Went out last night with Allen, had fun, drank too much, ate too much, and the evening ended badly with A. storming off into the night. Not mad at me, but still I was the one who had to bear the abrupt shift in mood. No more drunken Thursdays for a while, not with him.]

[As Hedwig sighed, "And what about sex?" I've had a couple of close calls since the breakup, but no acutal Nookie. None of that vaunted single slut syndrome, at least not yet. I don't even know why it's such a big deal since Chris and I were Open, and I at least took occasional advantage. But it is a big deal. I don't want to slide down some skanky street. Well, I do, but I shouldn't. Right?]

[That sopa de birria at lunch was delicious, but Boss Man and I didn't NEED to order the queso fundido con chorizo as well. Chubby chasers are my future. I was thrilled at my doctor's appointment a week ago to discover that I weigh twenty pounds less than the scale at Ikea a month ago said I did. (Chris, too.) But how long can that last with binges like last night and at lunch today?]

[God, George W. Bush and all his underlings are so sleazy. Tony Blair offed half his cabinet, too; time for changes all over. I updated a Wikipedia article on one aspect of that today. So erudite - psht! I wonder if Andrew Sullivan is right and both houses of Congress will go Democratic this fall. Seems too much to hope for, but if not now, for God's sake, when?]

[Where's the sun? If I'm to have a Cinco de Mayo margarita, I need sun.]

[And that's what I'm thinking about this afternoon.]

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