so i sit here.
first sunday in a while i have not been stoned. It is strange. To have time literally, on my hands. To not have tasks to perform at work whilst straight. I do not know what to do while straight.

And on Friday night S came over. For gear really. She wanted cash, I offered to put it in a bank account and it'd be there Saturday morning but no. Catch up she says. The part that hurts is that I think I have lost the ability to distinguish between her wanting to see me for me, or her wanting to see me for dope. I guess if it's a Friday night I can safely assume she is seeing me for dope, as that's my pay day. I do not think she can distinguish either.

Horrible, but there's an answer. Remove dope from the equation, as they say in the movies. Then if she sees you it's definitely for you. And if she doesn't see you you know it was all for dope.

Back to Sunday. I go to a cafe and hgave an iced coffee. I t puts more fat on my front.

I cancel an PC repair appointment the former building maintenance man made. It is Sunday, I feel i ought to rest.
I dither about going to work, it feels sad.

The grey skys outside do not help, they unsettle me.

I watch some Stargate episodes.
I read a little on XML and wonder whether it is the future for me. Clean and noble perhaps? Well clean, not so noble. But certainly not ignoble.

I wonder about whether I should do the shopping. How else will I have dinner tonight? I have left $20 to get some basic foods It has been 3 weeks since I grocery shopped, stoning constantly has avoided the necessity for foodstuffs beyond biscuits and soup. I hope I will lose weight but hope isn't action.

I wonder whether I should go on the prowl for lerv. On the prowl is an insidious phrase that former Zed worker now QUT childcare employee Paul put in my head last night at Zed Market Day. When I said I hadn't been to a concert in over ten years he said "Were you in a relationship?"

I hate that he saw so insightfully. That I am so predictably predictable. I know his phrase, On The Prowl, will scupper any chance I have at success for the next few years in that endeavour. Whenever I will get close I will hear this voice and I will shrink a little. He is outwardly a nice person - does good things, fights the good fight, but his words are laced with a sarcastic poison that I have come to see him as a voodo man. "Man with the poison tongue."

I think of using, again and again. I think of the coming Wednesday night when S has deemed me worthy of her company again, for a little time. Maybe she will get some dope she thinks. She is in for a surprise, it is Sunday and I am broke already.

Let her be surprised. We all have our gameplans. Hers is getting dope out of me, mine is bashing into walls with my eyes closed.

Let's see who wins. Let us count the bruises and tally them up.