137/82 is very happy making for me. I need to go get stabbed and squished, I dunno, but I managed to winkle six months of scrip out of her. I live in a goddamned earthquake, urban forest fire and flood zone, if my medicine keeps reasonably well and is non-narcotic I don’t see why I shouldn’t get it six month increments.
Alas my cholesterol is too high. Please oh great she elephant I do not want to give up dairy; life comes perilously close to not being worth it as it is. The big thing is stirring my stumps every day, which I have to anyway since this fucking house seems to be made out of stairs and the tv is always downstairs whereas the food, unfortunately, is always upstairs, unless I forgot to bring my plate back upstairs, in which case it’s downstairs.
I told the doctor my weight is stable at 200 pounds, why in christ’s name would I diet. Hauling my fat around
hey what did you call my brain
is the only exercise I get, although my knees and ankles would love it if the gravity eased up.
Why yes I do have an opinion on every subject, including an occasional strong presentiment that I should keep my typing hands in my pockets or perhaps choose other subjects.
I have composed a couple of short melodies on the circle of bongs, as I am referring the pan drum I purchased yesterday. It is bongulous; it is full of bongs. It is not quite tuned properly, which means that in sensitive people it will trigger intense unease. Possibly fetal posturing or homicidal rage. I don’t intend to play with it indoors, unless I’m practicing at home; I want people to be able to escape from it. I personally am enjoying it, and it’s certainly making my tinnitus seem even more choppy and insectoid than usual. I am enjoying striking it with mallets. One can get effects by ‘drifting’ the rubber mallet heads. Yes, this is me having fun.
I am going to edit for the next two weeks and stop trying to write things.
