the agony
I’ve been having strange metaphoric dreams lately. I dreamed last night that Superstar and I were at some event, though I am not sure what it was, and we were running around from person to person only able to say a few words to each of them, and there were so many it seemed like we’d never get around to speaking with everyone.
I am not sure what the resolution of that was, because as dreams go, you always wake up a split second before the answer is revealed. I’ve been sleeping badly, and have no appetite. Of course, now that I’ve lost 10 lbs. over the course of two weeks, I should call up dmk26 and tell him I’m finally ready to shoot again since there is now no possible way I’ll look fat in any of the photos. In fact, if I keep this up, I’ll be the poster child for anorexics anonymous.
“Maybe you should reconsider your sports activities since you haven’t been eating right,” Papaya said to me yesterday before I left for polo. “You would be amazed how long the body can go without proper food,” I said to her. “I once played hockey on a Luna bar, which is the only thing I ate all day.” I don’t think she was impressed. But I know, it’s not really your body that suffers over time, it’s your mind. Your body will put up with the abuse for a while, but your mind will just sputter out and die on you. I don’t think my mind can deal with lack of both love and food. One agony is plenty for it. Today I’m going to try to eat something.
It’s strange how much less life glitters when you’ve made a huge mistake.
