2004-02-17

Oh boy, I am so bad at being unwell (ill, sick, consumptive, whatever you want to call it). Its been five days now, I've slept for nearly half that time (that's 60 hours out of 120 for the slow ones in the group), and the other half I have spent lolling on the couch sipping juice and herbal tea, wondering if its too early to take my next dose of cough medicine and panadol.

And its slap bang in the middle of my favourite time of year (summer) in the best part of summer in Melbourne. Bloody hell, I musta done sumfink rool bad to deserve this karma. Either that or my body is rebelling against the shitty life i have created for myself. I am balling myself up for a big round of depression, and inaction, and then at the end of it all I can go "see? I'm worthless". Fuck the mind games I play with myself sometimes, they really are quite transparent.

I have got to get me some real livin' in before I shuffle off this mortal coil. Or more accurately I have to get me some more real livin' in. I've partied, I've been around the block, I know what's going on... hang on, let's make that I used to know what's going on. I'm so out of the loop these days I know less than your average middle manager. I feel like I have squandered my talents (the few that truly existed) and have spent my time embellishing the pathetic reality in order to convince myself that all is not as bad as it seems. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? why do i do this shit?

It's the cough medicine talking, I know it, and the horrible restriction of being cooped up in bed when I should be out running naked in the sunshine, knocking over small children with my swinging tits and blinding the populace with the sun's reflected rays from my ultra white tummy skin. I do have stuff to offer the world, but is it the stuff I've always been telling myself is the truth? I feel talentless, stupid, shelved and de-valued. I am the baht, the rupee, and on occasion the Australian dollar; not worth half so much to others as I am to myself.

Oh dear, evil Jujitsu is winning this mental fight. Must go and bash her off with panadol and herbal preparations.

BTW this is my first day without cigarettes. I am still alive - barely. The patch is itching me like crazy. I am typing to keep my mind off the action of holding a virginia rolled between my stumps. Even at my sickest (Sunday night) I still had courage enough to drag myself out to the back porch for one ciggie. But no, my lungs must prevail, and i am forced to rid myself of this naughty vice. Perhaps I'll take up gambling instead. Or loose women. Yeah, loose women sound like a great thing to take up. I wonder how long it takes to smoke one?

bitch - moan