It's 3am on Saturday morning, and I'm still up at my desk drinking Port. I don't know why we even bought the Port, but I've had two glasses of it tonight and it's made me tipsy. Ridiculous. Lina didn't feel well, so she lay down on my bed and fell asleep about two minutes afterwards. That was around 1.30 and she's still asleep so I thought I'd take the opportunity to post with some thoughts. I guess what I'm realising is that ever since I stopped losing weight, or trying to lose weight I have felt like there was this huge hole in my life. For a while, and intermittently I was able to fill that hole with various creative projects, but recently I've realised I can't just be okay with merely writing a little, and surviving. It's not enough for me. I can read every book, write a novel, make a film and still that won't be enough for me because I'm not my life's work anymore. I used to dream that by the time I reached my twenties I would have made myself into some kind of work of art. I look at myself today and just think that I'm an average person. People used to look twice at me; now I sort of blend into the background. At least that's how it feels. When I think about next year, with the apartment and everything, I think of how I will fit into that aesthetic.
I have fantasies of coming back after the three month summer holiday 30 lbs lighter. In fact, 20 lbs would be fucking fantastic, but we'll see how it goes. The new plan is as follows --
-- Under 1000 calories per day
-- Tons of water and caffeine
-- Planned meals
This shit starts tomorrow. I need to get back there. I will.
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