Recovery

I think I’m final­ly ful­ly recov­ered. It only cost me ten pounds, a few nights’ sleep and three rolls of toi­let paper. Now I’m try­ing to get back into a rou­tine. I won­der how this has messed up my work­out sched­ule. I’ll fig­ure that out tomor­row. I’m hav­ing a win­ter bar­be­cue next Sat­ur­day so I’ve got plen­ty of prepa­ra­tion to do for that, includ­ing a full slash and burn of my apart­ment, which has rarely been filth­i­er. My read­ing has real­ly piled up as well. I’ve got two mag­a­zines, four books of poet­ry and that book of Agee film crit­i­cism to go through, as well as a cou­ple of rough draft poems [one of which was post­ed pre­ma­ture­ly] to fin­ish.

Instead of doing any of that, I’ve spent the day watch­ing shit­ty sci­ence fic­tion movies like The Chron­i­cles of Rid­dick, Van Hels­ing and League of Extra­or­di­nary Gen­tle­men. Buh.

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