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October 16, 2005

Soul food

An oh, how fraudulent am I, i think to myself in the dying moments of this sun-soaked Sunday, as the light peters into dark and my mood turns sombre. It has been days and days of journal avoidance, as I have struggled with words, plucked obscure books from the shelves and discarded them as quick, slumbered instead of thought. I am not depressed, just restless and agitated, full of dreams and heartsick for my misspent youth. Who knows what the future may hold?

In the past 24 hours my eyes have feasted on handsome Brazilians, one after the other - and yet another - which has been a delight for my shallow senses. It occured to me yesterday that it has been so long since I had wonderful, sweaty, dirty sex with a boy that I don't think I can quite remember what it is like. How that is related to the appearance of the sexy Brazilians, one can only speculate! Today and last night I had to be contented with stilted conversations and watching as they kicked the ball around the park, which i suppose is ok for now.

At the moment I am the queen of procrastination, her royal highness the wastrel, madame maudlin, sleepy-socks Flip. I keep intending to throw myself into the heady world of industrial relations law reform and terrorism threats, of federal politics and bunfights, of implications and analyses and importunities, but i can somehow only focus on Kylie Minogue's struggle with breast cancer and the Norwegian heir's golden future. Am I doomed to be a dimwit forever? I am starting to wonder.

So, dear diary, where have you found me this week? I have been active, pulling weeds and pumping weights and power walking and huffing-puffing my way through many a morning. I can feel my body getting slightly stronger and have started chasing that thrilling moment when my consciousness drops away, my head fills with air and I start to float up and out of my body into some nether-world just past my peripheral vision. Endorphins are my new best friend.

It has been a solid two weeks of no drinking, no getting "fucked up" for fun, and it is a new world altogether. Something at the edge of my consciousness is hovering uncertainly, waiting for the freefall into regret, doom and gloom, but I am hanging on to that thread of self-belief and feeding it with my small victories. That "natural high" is all I have at the moment and damn, I will chase it as hard as I have to!