scales

I think I need a humidifier for my apartment. The past 2 weeks have require the heat to be on and I'm soo darn dry. As I sit at my desk I can feel my back skin strain over my bad posture. Well at least it's helping me "sit up straight"

Does anything make me feel more like a sullen child more than "sit up straight"? I can't think of any.

I don't want to take a shower and inflict more damage to my skin. This week it's shower one day, bird bath in the sink on just my stinky parts the next. This solution has put a small dent in the moisture barrier, but my skin is still dry. meh.

I gotta ride my bike today. Working up a sweat may help. I also can feel my body tell me it's not that tired when I go to bed. Needs more activity. Monday I thought I was going to carry home a big box to ship off some paintings. But I didn't. Tuesday I carried a 30"x 40" canvas with 2 other painting saran wrapped to it onto the El. My grip got a work out, but that's about it.

Today I'll be cleaning my house and buying the last bit of ingredients and making cornbread. I think I'll be tired enough by then.

Ah well, off to my bird bath.

a promise.

I'm up to my eyeballs in debt and today I realized that it's worse than I thought. I had to move the debt piles around to one big pile and JESUS.

So today I put into the electronic ether a promise to myself. I know better than this. Once I get out from under this shitpile, I'm not going back. I will have savings and a 0 balance statement as soon as frickin possible.

And also I hate all the pressures involved in Christmas. It's a yearly suck of finances dressed up in tinsel. Fuck you American Christmas.

transitioning

Things I have to force myself to do:

get out of bed
paint
get in the shower
floss
brush teeth
make my lunch
leave my house
ride my bike
stop browsing the internet
file paperwork
leave work
ride my bike
stop browsing the internet
floss
brush teeth
wash face
do the dishes

Everyday a battle of my weakness and my better self.

See You Next Tuesday

I'm reading Tropic of Cancer and I will finish it but it's getting challenging. I find myself rolling my eyes a lot, but maybe that's good exercise for my astigmatism. Miller's is frustrating me with his love of himself and his hand-to-mouth existence. It's a self-congratulatory piece of work. Every man he knows is a fool and every woman is just a space for self-congratulations when he's not at his typewriter. He likes to eat and fuck, but I doubt he can cook and I doubt he's bringing much pleasure to the women who provided him a warm space for his self-expression.

The thing is though, he's a good writer. He's a great writer even. Smart and interesting. Not very structured, but that's all part of his charm. It's so annoying. A thoroughly unlikable protagonist who is the writer of a good groundbreaking book. This book makes me think of Bukowski who is also the writer hero of man's underbelly but at least Bukowski admitted weaknesses. As I'm reading I get little flashes of book discussions with guys who brought these two writers up. I get a look eventually that shows a space between me and the guy I'm talking to. A look where they want to say, "you have no idea how profoundly brilliant, violent and sexual dominant I am because I've read and identified with this Bukowski" but they don't want to upset my delicate feminine self so they just hint at it. And maybe they're smart to do so. I've read them both and if I think you are jerking it to a Bukowski rape fantasy story, I will be repulsed. There are woman out there who love that stuff, but that is not my cup of tea. Maybe they were trying to figure that out. I don't know, but it's icky.

Anyways I think Miller is a liar who believes himself but is also a great writer with some good timing. He is also reminds me of Dante, who was also a smug little shit as he wondered around the inferno with Virgil pointing out everybody elses wrongs while he gets to sail off to heaven to high-5 God and his girlfriend.

I want to find the female equivalent of these dudes. I'd like to read that. If Miller wants to think of women as dumb hunks of meat to put his dick in, fine. I'm just asking, where is my counterpoint? The writer version of Liz Phair responding to the Stones. Maybe Doris Lessing? I dunno. I think it's yet to be written.

When it is written. I'd buy that book and read it 6 times and then put it on my best books of all time list.

Bike riding

I rode my bike today it was drizzling fairly hard on the way back and it was fairly cold. Towards the end I was not seeing much of anything through my waterlogged glasses. How do people deal with that? Also some asswipe honked at me for swerving about 6 inches to the center and I found no solace in mumbling, "asswipe" under my breath with my cold wet thighs, water droplet glasses. sexy sexy sexy.

Whatever. Challenges is good for the body and the brain.

Also when I started this bike commute thing I thought the cyclists were all friendly with each other. I imagined nods and smiles, maybe even a high 5 occasionally as we stopped at a light on Milwaukee. One big happy family on 2 wheels. Nope, it's more like sizing up and trying to jet off first. City life I guess.