My liver is fucked at the moment. From food poisoning, too much drinking this year, or Tylenol. They don't know. It's not that bad, but I can't drink until the next test. I can't consume any food either, not without it bubbling up in my chest, a separate problem that I can't take medication for cuz of the liver.
No problems on this earth are really separate.
And it's difficult figuring out how to be a human being without the little creature comforts of consumption. The food, the drinks, whatever we rely upon as crutches against time and space. And it's difficult figuring things out knowing that whatever I really am will be jumping ship from this body at any moment. I guess that's what's so miraculous about people, our ability to so intimately know of our impending demise while still innately feeling compelled to live. So I'm exercising more, I'm drinking apple cider vinegar and water with every meal, probiotics, and I'm not eating anything after six pm. And it's helping, it's helping, a little bit at a time, and for awhile, it's helping. And that's a damn fine thing, staving off defeat. Anyway, I should get out of my parked car now. I've hated Sunday nights for as long as I can remember, and I'm grateful to complain about it.
