It’s been not such as wretched a day as all the recent ones. I had to drop my car off for repair in the deepest, darkest country lanes of the Shire. It looked and felt more like Spring in the deep green roving hills of the most beautiful  of English Counties. It was a good day for a drive and I wished I felt better. It’s booked in for tomorrow but I am aware the chances of me being straight at 7.30am are slim stretching out to don’t waste your money. I am realistic and plan way ahead like a good addict should when I absolutely positively have to do something. I pulled an all nighter and even managed to be at the SuperMarket by 10. I have been awake for 72 hours. Something else I’ve not done in a few weeks. I have no appetite and have been living on vitamins and cereal for a while. The any time of day goto Champion of all true junkies. Just add milk. I like to cook. But right now I’d burn the house down operating the Microwave. I think I had some Honey Flakes on Friday morning. The last of my stash. The other Monster cleaned me out of everything but the paint on the walls.

I did the SM Dash and grabbed a mixture of healthy and non-healthy options. I saw some things I remembered I did like when and if I was ever hungry again. You never know. And beer. Lots of beer. I used to go weeks without a beer not long ago. If I do need food I need to be able cook it on a tray and try not to forget about for 4 hours. I will watch the Minced Beef for the over adventurous Shepherd Pie I deliriously thought I’d make for myself today go brown in tbe fridge I suspect.Oh! And Jaffa cakes and Fruit Pastilles to satisfy my sugar addiction and to ensure that my  expensive dental work is rendered useless. Far as I know they don’t do false Gums yet,

Getting up at 3pm and crashing at 9am is a strange existence. I don’t see much sunlight through the window to the world I no longer engage in. I do see the sunrise thought. I prefer that. A signal to return to my coffin. The days are short enough now anyway. And oh yeah, I suffer from SAD. The timing of my breakdown could not better. I wake up and cane myself for 18 hours, write this blog, and crash. Ad lib to fade. I have no idea how I can still write. It’s not my best work but don’t be so Fucking critical dude! I’m doing my best and it stops me staring into space all day.

But it’s not all grim. You can shed a shitload of weight without doing a stitch of exercise, unless you include toilet and fridge runs. I was a bit chunky and having a muscular build and not being the tallest guy at 5’9″, I can’t carry it. When I’m happy I over-eat. I was happy. Well, not over then moon but wat past ‘all things considered, not too bad thanks’. So I’m down to my smallest in 8 years. Wasting away in India trips included. It’s a good job I don’t get dressed. I look like Messi in his oversized Barca shirt.

All you need is 1/4 ounce of high grade weed to balance out the 2g of Coke, 8 cans of beer to ensure you trick your battered brain into thinking you are taking liquid, and takes care of having a reason to move every 90 mins, Honey Flakes and finally don’t forget that milk. Long life is the wise decision. It’s go no vits left in it but you got that covered. And some Panadol Extra. Lots of them too. Beat to a pulp and fry.

You’ll be getting that beach body back in no time. Doesn’t that sound nice?

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