Survival Mode

-00:47:00
Sit through meeting I declined but to which I was “re-invited.” Know its outcome beforehand; know it will devolve into what it does: commiseration.

-00:24:00
All agree on what has to be done, yet cannot do. I, operating on three hours of sleep, burst out the futility of the meeting.

-00:20:00
Leave room. Immediately regret. Print four copies of “sorry” note and place on attendees desks.

00:00:00
Hope I can rely on my [Jane’s-Addiction-]-“Ritual-[-de-lo-Habitual”] to cleanse myself through physical energy departing my body, my mitochondrion, doing their best to convert into ATP whatever glucose my bloodstream carries, so that my muscles can mindlessly but purposefully burn it. But I have so neglected myself as of late. Depress Start.

+00:08:00
I shut my eyes.

+00:16:00
In the middle of a DJ Shah mix these words fade over the pulsing:

“…It's touching life, it's touching life, it's touching, and it's touching life,
Imagine the silence of light,
Full of texture, full of color, starry lights,
As the moon suspended in the night,
See it, finally everything.

It's breathing life, it's breathing life, it's breathing life.
Looking through the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful, I want it.

Looking thorough the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful,
That I want it inside of me,
Of me, of me, of me, of me. I want it.

As if on cue…

+00:17:00
…this is not happening. It has been so long….and I have longed to touch it—at least—enter it if I am worthy, deserving: the zone. I do. Briefly. Once, twice, thrice…

+00:20:00
In full automutilation mode; throb of music through my veins; eyes shut still; motion in balance, no degradation. I have kept balance while stepping as I have learned to do. Chug, once, twice. Return drinking vessel to its receptacle.

+00:30:00
Reverse direction, increase slope x 6. Reduce resistance x 2. I usually alter settings more often, but today is “special.”

+00:31:34
Shift speed as the beat transitions from one song to another, masterfully cross faded by Shah. An unfortunate glimpse reminds me I am still here. EFX display reads 175 Watts (2 x 60 W E26 Medium Edison Screw light bulbs, 1 x 40 W ceiling fan E26, and 1 x F25T12 Fluorescent lamp (I usually power 2x100 W flood lamps +/- a handful of E12 Candelabra-Screw nightlights).

+00:38:00
Have entered and exited the zone at least eight times for a total duration of one minute and a half. Not the zone core, not full consciousness/loss of consciousness of self, but satisfying nonetheless. I can feel it: my facial muscles have relaxed from a frown to an incipient smile. Been too long without it, longed for it so, have I. Do not believe myself to possess an addictive personality, but this is beyond addiction: this is biological need. Although I feel so, I still lapse, behavior shifting to the opposite extreme—total disregard for self.

+00:41:00
Hear myself think “nothing matters, nothing matters, nothing matters” at half the tempo of the music. Nothing else occupies my mind. This is it. Just my voice and silence. The zone. I am my own church. church, my religion I am. LaVey-Satanic as it sounds, I know this is more like what Buddhist chanting, the rosary prayer, the Allahu Akbar (Allah is Great) mantra accomplish.

+00:46:00
For crap’s sake! Eyes shut still, I depress Reset in error. EFX display flashes workout stats as I frantically attempt to restart. Opt for Quick Start. Litre bottle is now empty.

+01:04:00
EFX display reads 1.80 miles, 195 kcal, 18:00 Min, I think. Music has stopped too suddenly for me to transition coherently to reality. My Polar reads HR 154 BPM aver., 172 max. Interpolate for missing values and determine totals to be approximately 5.5 miles and 600 kcal. Respectable, considering.

+01:27:00
Walk to work in a smiley, happy daze. A tinge of plantar fasciitis awakens in my left foot. Pain will linger through the day, despite meds. Irrelevant; actually it is good to feel.

+01:42:00
Nipples are sore. Did not anticipate such long a session. Had I known, I would have worn poly instead of cotton.

+01:42:49
Ouch! Should cover them with Band-Aids (flashback - 7 years when I covered nipple piercing during physical exam—glad piercing was out + 3 years for an MRI!).

+02:00:00
Two litres of water later… no food. Pee very yellow. Feel life.

+02:50:00
Three bananas later, 800 mg Ibu., and half a litre of water more, I feel partially replenished, but am still peeing yellow. Must continue to push water through.

+03:23:00
Ibu. kicks in. Left plantar fascia ceases to bother. Feel the urge to run my favorite x-country trail later. No music this time, just the quiet, layered with my breath and remixed with my heartbeat…and if I am lucky a redrum track of percussive rain on leaves, resampled and looped with the sub-range neuronal electric activity thunder of my gustatory papillae signaling to my brain the saltiness of rain + sweat mix.

+03:30:00
Ravenously devour a slice of whole wheat bread. Rain falls lightly outside. Two more hours.

+03:42:00
Brita-filter another litre of fluoridated swill into my reused PETE bottle. Almost there, almost time.

+04:15:00
Pee is less yellow, still not clear enough. Chug more water. Take a sip of leftover cold decaf. Clean-up. GTG.

+05:00:00
Suck down the rest of the decaf. Go pee.

+5:30
b y e .

physical hunger engendering mental hunger

this emptiness, this hunger, this attempt i unworthily describe as asceticism, may lead me to enlightenment. like a craving for the finest chocolate confection, craving for clarity of mind is a powerful driver.

i have failed these last few days, letting physical drive mental, inhaling carbs like there was no tomorrow, straying from the path, my path. after yesterday's intensity, driven by my body demanding, screaming for exertion, fatigue (pain), I feel tired and depleted, in pain but savoring sweet agony. Bliss.

so far to go. so many obstacles. so much excitement, anticipation. so much damage a lapse can inflict. Let me get back on the path. i know it is a long difficult one.

Por qua non?

energy. sap me. finite. physical + mental. quanta. reduce by the eon, the fentosecond. count. balance. achieve? what if? what if not? struggle. the theory goes like that.

c r i p e s ! w h a t o n e a r t h a m i d o i n g u p a n d w h a t i s t h e t i m e ?

Not again, please

Indeed, expectations taking their toll. I hurt physically--head. I hurt mentally--thought. I hurt emotionally--sense. I gorge on carbs as if a marathon required it. Yester was a challenge, mercury rising, Sylvester infuriated by Tweety. But the evening ended before the full impact was noticeable.

As of morn, back to -5 and dropping. Thought: too much. And I wonder, is this all I can expect? Is this the best meds can do? First 100 mg., then 150 mg., now 200...escalator switching directions arbitrarily. No controller. ATC's screen dominated by octal 7700/ident. TMI. Overload. Blank screen, BSD, black.