clouds in my coffee.

damnation is the sentiment of the day. just when guilt-ridden thoughts of the soul are replaced by concrete corrective action the body takes yet another hit and seems out for the count. perhaps the readings for the dog is true for this year of the whatever after all. and the appetite. the wracked temple suffers all the more as a result of the lack of desire for nourishment of any kind. something is obviously wrong when every swallow is followed by a private celebration. and when i try to inflict mortal wounds upon myself while attempting to pat myself on the back with every cleared plate. and it will not budge. a trade off. a vicious cycle. when i'm sick i don't drink coffee. when i don't drink coffee my stomach suffers not. when my stomach suffers not i get well. when i get well i drink coffee. when i drink coffee i lose appetite. when i lose appetite i get sick. the cycle has to be broken! everything points to one obvious weak link in the cycle. there is only one thing left to do.

i should get used to being sick.

everyone is suddenly talking to everyone else. mounting anxiety perhaps. or increasing levels of loneliness. or something. if only she'll talk to me it'll solve all the anxiety on my end. and the cows will drive the tractor back home to mexico taking along the patriotic piglet who died for the liberty of the doves with the collapse of the peacock regime. actually the increased volume of social activity only serves to raise anxiety levels. fuck me can't i see beyond my worries that it's a mirage. some people are genuinely nice. i think. and perhaps one day i'll meet some.

lots of hume cropping up in classes of every kind. ok perhaps just one class. but the memories. i believe i've solved all the problems in the world of metaphysical dispute by pronouncing myself irrational. amazing just how it all becomes clear when you do that. stands to reason as well, if you think it through, logically, hard enough.