Keeping A Slim Day Through Inertia – Mad Chaos: August 3, 2004

A Death In The Aviary

When I woke up today at midday, the same pococurante nature as yesterday was inside me.  I am too reluctant to wake up now because I know there is a ball and chain to haul around the day with.  

Nonetheless, once I woke up, I walked upstairs and made breakfast, which was a pair of nine-grain toasted breads.  I spoke to mum.  Dad was up there as well.  

Mum said how one of her birds had died, possibly because of cold weather or a lack of food.  I was sad because I empathize with the traumatized and lonely bird.  So now I whistle to it.  Sometimes it looks at me and interacts in a dance.

I was somewhat surprised to see mum and dad were also exposed and insecure.  As I spoke to mum she needed to cough twice.  So I spoke less, and distracted the conversation with more emphasis on the bird.  Her pain only lasted for a minute, because as soon as the toasted breads were ready, I walked back downstairs in a perky mood.

Showing No Weakness

I have shown no visible weakness now in the household for months.  I never cough around mum or dad, and I speak with ease.  I often wonder if mum and dad have adjusted, or if they assume I will relapse one day soon.  So, these indelible memories make them anxious around me.  

Perhaps mum has analyzed how I wake up later than usual now and have a beard, because later in the day she joked on how I looked like a pope.  Maybe mum thinks I have capitulated to the holes I used to dwell in.  It may appear like I live the old life where I have a dozen unremarkable days, which anticipate the reanimation that is allowance day.

I would like to believe I suffer inertia because my memoirs suppress me, because I have many resolutions to keep me occupied from now until the next allowance.  I have been unable to utilize them because my memoirs impede.  

If I have a social I have a much more complex issue in my memoir, which further displaces me and reels me toward recession, so there is prosperous hope.  All I have to do is ration the days like I have so far, and decline socials for a week or more until I am able to once more profiteer.

Brush Techniques At The Local Shops

I watched television for a couple of hours as well as parliament question time, before I made another visit to the local shops at 3pm today, which is when all the kids poured out of primary school.  I weaved around them and returned some videos at the local video store before I walked into the supermarket.

I was happy however because I was able to use the brush technique on a delectable ass on the way into the local supermarket to purchase bottled olives.  I also purchased a cheese and bacon bread.  When I am released back into society I will be a force to be reckoned with, but it could take a week of famine before I am free.

Then I purchased a comb from the posh hairdresser, which charged me five dollars.  

Looking Like A Pope

I walked back home, had the cheese and bacon bread, and then walked out into the backyard where dad and mum were once more.  

Dad had painted more of the carport infrastructure, as I moved the bench press for dad so he could have space.  

This is when mum said, “Your beard has grown out.  You look like a pope.”

I never had a real reason to be outside, so I came back in.  

Soon later, I catnapped from 5:00pm to 7:00pm once more.

Passing Time With Inertia

Ever since then I have watched the news and had dinner, which was four cheeses pasta and sauce with tuna and cordial.

I watched an episode of “Married with Children” that I had downloaded online, followed by news and political programs, with a comedy talk show thrown in.  

I hope to wake up tomorrow and have another slim day, where I am able to contribute another hour to the impassable traumas of older entries.  I hope to keep intact this month while I wrap up the loose ends of the previous one, at the expense of momentum.

I know I will suffer this month and my impression of these memoirs will be jaded, like how I despised the dishes after I came back home with the incidence of the Jasper house fresh in mind.  I am still unable to look at the dishes with the same innocence of enthusiasm I had before.  I hope the same example will not be applied to my memoirs when its obstacles have been overcome, but it remains to be seen whether this month will become an extraneous era or worthwhile philosophy to reflect on in years to come.