I will begin by saying that although it is maybe unwarranted, or atleast a little excessive, but I feel like I am at my wit's end, and while I am so thankful and have so many reasons to be happy, I am still plagued by what I can only describe as an intense self-loathing and desire to be cloistered away somewhere where no one will have to see me. I feel I am that out of shape, that fat, that hideous almost, that I actually do not want to be seen by anyone. I guess that's pretty ridiculous, but that is how I feel. I keep trying, but keep fucking up, keep getting faced with situations, wonderful opportunities to be with wonderful people, to enjoy delicious food, and just bad, bad temptations, free food in the hospital, snacks at home when bored alone or with company, there's always a fucking reason to eat. I'm trying to think, what made it possible for me to not be OBSESSED with fucking food all the time in that period of sadness and discontent. Most likely the sadness and discontent, I simply couldn't eat, had no appetite, no interest in anything at all. I could get no joy from it, but now, I get limitless joy whilst it's going on and nothing but horrible regret, self-loathing, and depression immediately after. Tracy says it's because I lost it in a very unhealthy and rapid way and that it is natural and inevidable that I would put it back on, and maybe more, especially once my mind and body start recovering and "evening back out." That sucks. I am just so frustrated and depressed over it. Especially after seeing Le Trapiezze show in Club Charles last night and seeing the exact same curvy, but not wobbly, small figure that I had had for those months, that I certainly do not see in the mirror now. It's like it just keeps getting worse and worse and that goal seems harder and harder to attain, more and more in the distance. Everytime I think maybe I'm doing better, somethng fucks it up, I fuck it up. I have no willpower now. All this said, Tracey has imparted some advice to me which I think may be of some profound help, and that is to stop obsessing about it so much. It's like self-sabatoge, all of the resolving to not do this and not do that, it's like willing myself to fail, compounding the situation. Prehaps I should just try, but not put so much pressure on myself, not harp about it outloud to myself or others, not be preoccupied by it day and night, and in not thinking about it so much, prehaps it will be more attainable.

In fact, I found today that when I did not feel hungry, at a conference when I was coersed into eating, I had only what amounted to a small dip of tuna salad (the wrap it was in having been both wheat and soggy, thus making it necessary to disassemble and just eat the tuna.), and I had no trouble then resisting the other food, and not having held out to that point of starving, shaking, ravenous mania that I am beginning to see is what leads to the gorging, the going overboard, I feel completely contented having consumed very little.


Alright, enough about food and my dysmorphic ranting. Last night we went to Rob Soma's show at Lo-Fi. Appearently it's now called The Hexagon, for no apprearent reason. Savory James ended up headlining, so we had time to float back and forth between there with Rob, Angel, Laurie, and all, and Club Charles, where Jeremy was working and concocted two of his famously delicious white Russians, those of such renoun. Lost track of time for a bit singing Common People at the bar with Nick, how I love that song, and how it resonates so deeply for me. We walked back to Lo-Fi, around to the back and discovered in this alley, tucked away from everything else, almost another long-forgotten street, with old auto-repair shops, all but washed away adverts painted on brick, and old once neon sign, and the stable type of garage doors. Nick and I were in awe. It was so much like a place time forgot, so seemingly unknown to the rest of the city. We said we'll have to go back in the day time to take some photos. In the back of Lo-Fi, they have it open to the courtyard/alley between several buildings there, with chairs and tables for people to smoke, and it was completely closed in, high chain link fences and brick structures, fire escapes hanging above, and all the way at the top, the night sky. I have to say it was terribly romantic, in the sense that I find that sort of thing so beautiful.

The show was really good. Had enough time to go back to Club Charles, close out, and then hit the Subway before heading home, where I somehow ended up getting to sleep sometime after 4:30. I can't imagine how that happened haha. Nick is trying to do a Guy's Night tonight, so I am going to go to the Charles to see this Brideshead adaptation. I'm pretty sure it will be a bastardization of the book, however, it may prove a decent enough movie in its own right if I try to look at it as a separate entity. Still excited to see it.

Hoping the weather will be good tomorrow and Sunday to hopefully hit Druid Hill. I do feel I would both benefit from and enjoy walking around that beautiful expanse of our fair city. Got those dinner reservations for Cinghale tomorrow night (have to decide what to wear) and b on Sunday. Petit Louie has been put on hold since Nick's check is short, which is ok. Some other time. I may go to Golden West before the movie or somewhere else. Stopping off at Walmart on the way home to get some nice, black picture frames in which to put some of my pictures from England (not any with Rob, obviously) in my room. I have decided to kind of further the unintentional theme of Anglophilia. As Carmin had joked and I quipped, "Swinging London," but it is genuine, and not contrived, and I don't think it will come off that way. I think I will put up the smaller Union Jack that Mom just got me from the Goodwill, rather than the large one from Rob that used to be above the bed at the apartment. It's all the things I love and am interested in, they mostly happen to be British haha.