Hi. Here's some further dirge until I get myself back on track.
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My legs hurt. They are aching that good ache that comes from running. I've started going to the gym again after a three-year break. I want to get down to under eighty kilograms before my fortieth birthday. No more than two kilograms for each year. That seems not just sensible to my sense of numbers, but also portentous. Part of me, albeit a subconscious part, believes, and truly and physically believes, that if I weigh more than eighty kilograms on my fortieth birthday, then a chasm will open in the Earth large enough to swallow a continent.
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So, my legs have that sheen to them that comes from sweating on purpose. When you actually want your body to sweat it pours out with more joy. My t-shirt is plopped on the floor. It's drenched from my torso it looks like a pile of recently made plaster of Paris. My wife tells me I have good legs - she's not the first. I don't want to sound like Bukowski, but it's true - my legs do alright.
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I love my kids enough to be thinking about a vasectomy. I never want to make another child, but knowing me, once the snip is done, I'll question it. It's a palpable challenge to my being - of course it is. When I stand in a high place a tingle, slightly electric, rushes through my testicles. There's nothing pleasant in it. It's not salacious in any way. It's a pure and simple threat to my bloodline. If I fall off, I don't make more babies. The possibility of death negates the possibility of immortality. I'm not trying to be deep, but I am convinced that that distinct quiver in my balls pierces through evolution right back to the amoebas. Anyway, if I get the snip, I'm pretty sure I can dance on top of a Petronas Tower spire without a single tingle.
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An Adam Sandler film slobbers on the plasma screen to my right. The lure of coffee pulls me to the kitchen. My head is lulling towards the sleep it'll be meeting in two hours. I have the evening scruffily mapped out - make a crap decaf, drink it while watching the film, go upstairs to my pillow and repeat - more or less.
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P.S. - apologies for not being around on some of your fine blogs recently. I shall soon. By the way, my Windows edition is old - I still get a red line under the word blogs. I kind of like that.
