Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Rushing Too Much on Sugar to Regret Not Going


My glasses are great, perfect sight again. Especially one pair, that sit on my nose better, the pair I like the least, wouldn't you know it. It is like having perfect eye sight again. Amazing.

I couldn't do the hospital visit. I chickened out. Call me piss weak. I wasn't up to that. What do you say to your ex-lover who is dying of cancer. (I should have made more of an effort, I thought, as soon as I got home. It doesn't matter what you talk about. I know that, I learned that when Tom was dying. All you have to do is talk, even about death, if they want to. It is not about you, Christian)

I ate four glazed donuts in the city, until I was disgusted with myself, trying to talk myself into it. Then came home rushing too much on sugar to regret not going. I might go this afternoon. Tomorrow. It is only Wednesday. Who can live under this pressure?

Buddy sits in the sun leaning against the couch, the continuous drool hi lighted by the sparkling sun, dripping down.

It is another glorious day in Melbourne today.

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