A comforter changes everything. I am no longer crashing at Superman's winter home. Magically, the heat was also on last night. The crystal castle has melted. I must have slept for eight hours, or seven. I dreamed of the tropics. I feel like a prince, a real Kryptonian, Zod, Vlad, Something / Anything. Though, in truth, when I awoke... Miss Lane was already long gone.
Too bad, that.
I seem halted in my weight drop. I have leveled off at 211. Twenty-five pounds lighter than I was at my flabbiest, but somehow stopped in my descent, edging towards my goal of invisibility. I am going to write a self-help-diet book for people who wish to get to 211 pounds, just like me.
I'm stuck on a title though. It's either going to be,"What am I doing with this in my mouth?"
Or, "Oops..."
I am currently trying to come to terms with my fiber intake. It's an ongoing issue. The more of it I eat the more monstrous the results. There must be some logical end to its hideousness.
Okay, Starbucks will be open soon. That means good things for me.
Each day now I go to Starbucks and buy a coffee. Each day I am amazed at the enormous sense of entitlement, and waste. There is a counter there so that people can prepare their coffee the way that they choose, once they have it in their clutches. This table can easily accommodate two people. Each morning, like broken clockwork, somebody will be standing at the dead center of the table, occupying it nearly completely, rather than just standing to one side so that another person can use the table also.
Each day, my response is the same, "Could I possibly use one half of this counter made for two?" as I navigate in towards it anyway, usually to the right side where the delicious cream is kept cold. For several days now I have noticed why these people act this way, I think. They don't want others seeing what they are doing. Here in beautiful Sonoma… they will pick up anywhere between 3-7 of the wood stirrers and they're using them to stir the sugar in a single coffee. I swear to Paul Bunyan. It's fucking insane.
I'm not a tree hugger, per se, but I'm still deeply repulsed by this kind of abject consumption. How can one coffee stirrer be insufficient. You're just dissolving sugar into a hot liquid with motion. It doesn't require miniature deforestation.
If you look in the trash you'll see that there are always a few clumps of stirrers tossed away together. If you use one and offer to hand it to somebody who needs one they'll look at you like you just asked them if it was okay to give them a nice back rub with a personal choice from your private dildo collection.
I'm always tempted to say what I think, "It wasn't in my ass, I swear to fucking god. Smell it?"
The people are bad enough, but they've also put the local flyer-board right in front of this table. So, they will stand there and gaze up in wonder at it after preparing their coffee and then just after that also, oblivious to all others except perhaps those recalled in fading memory. I mean, you can't really blame them, they haven't had their morning coffee yet. It makes me want to sharpen one of those wooden stirrers. Prison rules, etc.
What can be done?
There is no cure for the others.
.
