Dinner At Ten O'Clock

I'm eating hot dogs and roasted potatoes and green beans with some kind of sauce (I forget what, but it's the only way I can stomach the greens), and it's half past. This reminds me of way back at the beginning of the year, when I lived in Dublin and didn't eat 'til ten or eleven. Some nights, especially during the film festival, I'd forget to eat before going out to the pub, or going out in general, which might explain why I was so intoxicated all the time. It's not that it was purposeful (my not eating), I really did just forget. It didn't seem that important, I guess, to eat dinner. So it goes.

The P's called an hour ago to see if I was still alive. Okay, not really, but they were interested in what was going on in my life. I told them I'm very busy (true), and that the next 48 hours are going to be even busier (also true). This is really my own fault, you see, because already I'm fucking up (as I'm wont to do) and not setting my priorities straight. Case-in-point: last night, when I decided it was more important to hang out in the blogosphere than cut myself some slack and do work I knew I'd want to kill myself over tonight. To be fair, it's been a while since I've perused the world of music blogs, so I suppose I could argue that I earned it? Meanwhile, I'm now minutes away from drinking a cup of Irish breakfast tea so I can spend the night writing a poem, critiquing three others, reading a chapter of my comic theory book, and perhaps, if I have time, reading Rebecca Kraatz's House of Sugar and parts of Adam Zagajewski's poetry collection Mysticism For Beginners. But I might forsake the last two and journal for Malcolm so I'm not doing the majority of that and reading 60 pages of film theory/history tomorrow night (especially not when I won't be able to start my work until half ten, at the earliest). Oh, and at some point I have to make photocopies of stories and an entire chapter from an anthropological book by Paul Auster (the title escapes me) for Nelly.

Basically, what this all means is, I win. Full stop.

On the plus side, I went to the gym tonight and, as I observed when talking to the P's, I'm not altogether feeling good while working out, but I feel like I'm getting to that point. Which is a very positive thing. My muscles are coming back, I think, and if I continue to make friends with the elliptical machine, I just might shed a few pounds! I rowed too, which I haven't done in a while, and it was by far the best part of my workout.

Rang Ireland earlier, which resulted in much happiness. It's always nice to hear welcome voices. Also: distance ain't got nothin' on banter. Just sayin'.