It is hereby the third day of no smoking. Vinny and I quit at the same time. And this, if anything, is the true test of our marriage. Only one blow-up yesterday, but nothing that an hour long walk with the dog didn't fix.
Moving on, I'm trying not to drink too much coffee (another love of my life besides cigarettes) because one begets the other. Oh but I feel so goddamn healthy I could puke.
Yeah, moving on. This morning I'm about to grapple my way out of the hole I've fallen into with writing (that is, storytelling). I have a three page essay that I've been staring at for a week trying to change it from a nauseaum of abstract imagery into a story that actually says something (although I have several of these to work with). Since Monday I've been pacing from the computer, to the bed, to the bookshelf, to the coffee shop, to the... (you get the point). I've been waiting for an epiphany. It hasn't come. I think there's a really brilliant idea out there, but it's hidden in a pack of cigarettes that I can't have.
So instead I'm embarking on a new mission... and that is to start over, to tell the story again, but in 3rd person. This is V.'s brainchild, to distance myself from the story. Such a wise man. I will become she... because when it comes down to it, I don't want anything to do with myself right now anyway.
She's going to start now. Goodbye.
1 comment:
The "she" thing? That's fun. I find it very therapeutical.
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