I do not have self control. I spent the day watching television. I popped in one DVD after the next, eating episodes like gummy bears, where I have no choice but to finish the bag. Not only are gummy bears yummy, but I can’t in good conscience leave a gummy bear alone in a plastic bag. The jealousy would be too great. I couldn’t stop watching the DVDs as long as there were more episodes waiting for me. If exhaustion didn’t kick in about ten minutes ago, I would still be stuck to my couch watching the final two disks of the second season of “The Wire.” I am pathetic.

Late in the afternoon I managed to peel myself off the couch and leave the Castle. It was difficult but hunger won out. I was afraid that if I vegetated the entire day, I would wither away. My pants have grown suspiciously loose around my waste. Even my belt is too small. I might need to shorten it again. This is all not a good sign. It’s just that I’m not good alone. Given enough alone time I’ll end up sitting around all day doing nothing. It’s an inertial thing. I don’t have the energy to start doing anything. My trip to Albertsons was born out of desperation. If there was any food left in the Castle—and I spent some time searching through the cupboards, good ol’ boards of cups—I would have eaten at home until I found crazy. Crazy is right around the corner most weekends when I have nothing to do but quietly comb my hair with my fingers. Yes, it’s that bad.

My sleep schedule is almost back to normal. I’m only a bit skewed toward the early hours and evenings now. Maybe a “bit skewed” is not the right description. I woke up at around four this morning and didn’t nap. I had plans to nap but nothingness won out and I sat around and celebrated its anniversary. I’m hoping to slip back into my normal 630 to 2200 schedule soon enough. I’m tired now and it’s barely 2100 hours. Military time is easier to type without the pee and ays and ems.

I thought about storying but my brain couldn’t wrap itself around an idea right now. I should have storyed before, when it was still early and I had all the time in the day. There are many things I should have done. It is the proverbial broken record of my life’s story. I wish CDs and mp3s skipped like broken records. I wonder if that saying will disappear as nobody remembers what a repeating record sounds like. Broken digital music usually doesn’t sound like anything. Ah, isn’t filler great? That talk about skipping records was only a small sentence before. Now it’s a good eighty words and growing, as I talk about how long it is. I have to get the Marathon out of my fingers. By January I should be back to my on word paragraphs.

My eyes are closing as I read through the internet. Yeah, I wasn’t writing a few minutes ago. I was distracted again. My fingers and wrists hurt from programming the wedding website and typing these stupid entries and ridiculously bad stories. I’m not in a good mood tonight, it seems. Such consternation coming out of my little keyboard, it’s embarrassing sometimes. I can’t even stand my own complaining. I need to focus these energies on better things. I’m pushing words to push words instead of to tell something. Isn’t this what my new goal is all about?

Before the filler, at this point I still had lots of words left for today. It was not a good sign then, but now it’s not so bad. Tomorrow I hope to spend a few hours writing the wedding photos story. I’m going to ditch my first part draft. I don’t know how the old man narrator who, as the Doolies put it, had part Texan part New York accent, stormed into my story, but suffice to say he was not invited and it turns out he didn’t bring much in the way of gifts or interesting stories. He can go now, unless he wants to write the rest of this entry. No? Then he is not most definitely not welcome (or “most def,” a favorite terrible line from “The Wire”—I waste way too many of my brain cells remembering details about that show).

I feel like everything is too tight. My muscles ache—probably from too much sitting and laying about—my fingers feel like they’re about to fall off, and my body feels uncomfortable and not capable of holding in my insides. It is a very weird feeling. I’m watching that Word Count very closely. It’s been another one of those days where I want to get this over with, but at the same time I wanted to say something. Today those happened to be contradictory goals.

I’m picking at my brain trying to find something to write about. Usually large slabs of gray matter flake off when I start picking, but today there’s not much there. It’s smooth and useless, kind of like my body feels. I need to get out of the house tomorrow, experience some things, run away from the computers and the televisions. I’m actually looking forward to work on Monday. Doolies warned me about the stir craziness. I always seem to forget how bad I get when I stay at home.

I’m off to New York starting next weekend for a continuing education class. I needs me some smarts. It’ll be nice to see my family again. I won’t be visiting my sister and her new monsters until probably new years. These are all very important details that I felt the need to record. Do you see where blankness gets me? I record my travel schedule. We’re also planning to visit Dallas over the holidays. This will be a busy two months of flying.

I hit my allotted words for the day. I’m not proud but I am done. I figure if I keep at it, writing words every day, eventually some of the words may start making sense or forming together interesting sentences, and once I can tie together sentences, paragraphs won’t be too far off. I don’t dare dream further than paragraphs. I understand that’s way beyond me. For now it’s all about tiny steps on tiny keyboards.