Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He is annoyed that he failed last night to commit to his weekend news black out. He managed to find out that the other bombing suspect had been caught alive. There was cheering apparently. He manages to begin the news curfew after that and it continues throughout the day although he feels withdrawal symptoms except that they are no real withdrawal symptoms because watching the news a lot is nothing like being addicted to heroine. He wakes up early because of the coffee from the night before and then he goes to yoga and he feels his muscles stretch and he feels like an old tree instead of a supple sapling as he barely bends in the embracing heat of the room. He keeps wanting to lick the sweat off the person next to him. Not in a sexual way but because he thinks he is hallucinating and he is really thirsty and his throat is really parched and it looks like the nearest water is the sweating beading on a stranger’s back. He resists the urge to lean over and tongue his way all over an unfamiliar back but the thought definitely remains with him throughout most of the hour and a half that he bends and stretches and feels faint and elated. He leaves and takes the heat and the joy of the session with him and as always as he drives home the heat that his body generates is steaming up the car so he has to open all of the windows and he feels amazing and alive and in and of the moment. Then when he gets home he eats a bagel and has a coffee with chocolate and vanilla almond milk and chocolate syrup in it. He does not deserve such a treat but he has it anyway because he can. The he thinks about going for a run but he reads some of his book instead. He enjoys it. He enjoys it hardcore. He goes to the shop and he takes some photographs and he does the shopping and it is grocery shopping. Then he gets a text from the woman who he thought wasn’t going to text him and he can’t think of a witty reply so he doesn’t reply but he will think of one tomorrow but then it may be too late but he hopes that it is not too late and also he is not sure if he minds if it is not too late. He eats some fish cakes and he thinks about the world and he is happy with his photographs and he is happy about his life but he is constantly struggling with the desire to be alone that fights with the pain of being lonely. He goes to sleep.

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The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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