My left leg, the one I hit hard in a bench a year and a half ago or so, hurts again. I must have done something bad to it. It’s not as late as it usually is but I’m tired and rugged. Cold too. The throat is raspy. Sleep seems like a good idea, or at least bury myself underneath the warm cover and hug a pillow — because you use what you’ve got.

I take far too much personal. Being stuck and sort of slowly slowly crawling out into the darkness without any sense of direction — metaphorically — does things to you, me I obviously get a bit needy and with far too many self-esteem blows.

I’ve got a cold, but damn, I want to go back out there with the people at the camp-fire. Four days is too fucking short time. Found Rock of Ages on vinyl though, so that will do for company.

There’s a rain. It’s almost the only thing keeping my spirits up, most things feel wrong. I know, somewhere in the thick skull, that they’re not. But real and imagined kind of blurs, the line is not exactly clear.

So I sit here, listening to the rain and read comics. I wish I had something else to do. Right now, I swear I’d be the worst participant to play “anywhere but here” because I’d be ecstatic about a fucking bus-stop.

The sound of rain though, that I’d carry with me. And the coming in from the rain smell. That’s almost as good as the sound.

Laying in bed, hugging the Jayne hat is not really a good way to spend a Saturday. Sure, it’s not all I’ve done. Recorded a very very demoish thing for Nyvinter and draw a bit, but even that feels… Empty?

I’m not good at weekends. Not at all. So make it worthwhile, at least for a brief or a bit longer moment.

Cursed by an unlucky star, I cut myself in the thumb on a the lid to a plastic container. It’s one of those transparent easily break plastic that borders on paper but is in a more solid form. Know what I’m talking about? Anyway, the cut, it stings just like a paper cut. My thumb demands a sacrifice!

No blood though, praise the $deity!¹

_{1) My $deity is of course blue and fuzzy and has googly eyes and lives on Sesame Street.}

It was a great weekend so of course it had to end differently. Flat tire, leaking windscreen cleaning fluid, right front a bit knobbly and the length of the right side scratched. No aches anywhere but still considers throwing up some sick.

nuh-uh! Really? You look like you’re 23!

This was the reaction when I said I turn 33. Truly, I am! Promise. At least the body — since I’m a man the mind is probably stuck at fifteen. But I guess I’m just underdeveloped all the way.

2002. Close to the 25.

2005.

2008.

2010. Now.

I’ve been geeking out pretty hard yesterday and today: reading and watching things about colour theory and light and things like that. This means I haven’t seen yesterdays Top Chef. (So don’t spoil Internets!) It also serves as an indicator that I’ve done jack shit — the laziest being alive today could be true! No sorry, not that lazy. The David Cross character in the Satanic Television Preacher sketch in Mr Show was severely more lazy than I’d ever be. Truth.

There has been brief passages of thought, one that I keep coming back to over and over again. Not only today but the last few years it’s been there: why does every artist or band have to make a cover of Wonderwall? There is no answer to that.

Ten lies I constantly tell myself (not really ten.)

1. “I am open-minded.” Which I probably am to  a certain degree. But I still judge people for stupid things, and I mock them. Things that doesn’t matter. Such as what they think of certain music or a tv-show or cookies. And people who claim that the computer they use is superior and make puking gestures when say a competitor? Those I hate. They should be the new baby seals.
2. “I am not afraid.” This is so false I’m ashamed. Constant fear for everything. 
3. “I hate people.” False, false, false. I’m not a people-person; introverted and shy. Being around strangers is scary (see point two) and even friends who I love can be taxing on the social reserves. Hate people is just easier to use as an explanation than the truth. You remember the old clichéd scenes in movies where someone stands in the cold and look inside on a family who celebrate the holiday with food and laughter? That’s me on the outside, and the glass in the window keeps me from being part of everything. “Hating people” is a lie to help the mind cope.
4. “I’m going to get a cat.” I used to be very allergic. It’s better now, I don’t sneeze or anything from cats but I think it would be a bad idea to get a cat anyway. What if the allergies are there — dormant and hiding, waiting to attack.
5. “I love change.” Which I do, but it’s not the whole truth. I adapt slowly, I am without a doubt very much a creature of habit and then there’s point two again. Change is good, I’m not just as spontaneous as I’d like.
6. “I’m worthless.” At least I think it’s a lie. I hope it’s just a case of terrible self-esteem.  It’s the worst.

The laws of physics and taste dictates that you can never have too much cheese on the food. This is true, it’s fundamental in all of the Universe — what did you think the Reduced Planck Constant is made of? However, it turns out that some people like me can’t handle the great stuff in proper quantities. If there is cheese over a certain level, it will be up shit creek. Literally. I really hope all the mac’n qartro-cheese was within the limits. Perhaps… Nah, I should probably not indulge myself in tempting fate.

Completely unrelated: I think could kill for a hug right about now.