So, I am not a regular weigher-of-my-body. It’s not something I think to keep on top of. And when I do think about weighing myself, the fact that I get on My Lovely Wife’s case when she obsessively weighs herself makes me do it furtively and sheepishly.

So imagine my surprise when I came back from the Canadian Ultimate Championships last week, wondering how much weight I had lost in three days of intense physical activity, and discovered I was fifteen pounds OVER my usual weight. Not under. OVER.

Chagrin was my wingman.

So imagine my double surprise when I weighed myself this morning and discovered that the fifteen pound gain had TOTALLY vanished.

I guess the fact that I had swollen up from the heat and dehydration to German-sausage levels may have been a factor.

…

It was really stunning, like someone had injected Itchy Grossness^© into my legs until I had barely enough mobility to walk. Dudes, my legs were shiny.

…

* Itchy Grossness^© — New from Ronco!

Looking for the right blend of viscosity and lumpiness from your all-purpose goo? Then Itchy Grossness^© is for you!

Itchy Grossness^©
Goo… for the rest of you!

Re-posted from ma Twitter:

Huh. I sorta figured that my blog would sorta “run itself” while I took a wee sabbatical. Not so. Looks like PHP can’t do *everything*.

I should probably do something about this…

First though, I will need bloggin’ fuel.

[Pause.]

Errr… what specifically counts as “bloggin’ fuel”?

Besides pie and cookies.

Pie and cookies being like the Type-O-Negatives of Fuel — they power EVERYTHING!

Just a quick one. Basically so you can check my pulse and determine that I’m still alive. Still 100% unmotivated.

But here’s a quick call out to listen to Wilco’s “Sky Blue Sky”. It’s become my personal anthem this summer. It breaks my heart and keeps me above water. It comes down to these two lines:

I survived
That’s good enough for now

They first hit me last month, walking through the streets of Durham, on one of the many walks I took to try and pull myself together.

I survived
That’s good enough for now

That’s me in a nutshell right now.

I almost lost it at Starbucks on Saturday when it came on.

But I made it.

I survived
That’s good enough for now

Been trying for days to figure out a good way to get back into this whole blaaaaaaaaahging thing. People probably want to hear how I’m doing and what I’ve been up to.

Surviving. Dealing. Avoiding. Crying. Coping. Teeth-grinding. Eating. Working. Slacking. Worrying. Staring. Thinking. Hiding. Redecorating. Running. Sleeping. Raging. Suppressing. Sighing. Missing.

And SO MANY PEOPLE have sent me wonderful comments of support and concern and offers to help in any way they can and… I have avoided them all. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know when I will. But I’ve read everything. And I do thank you all so much for your wishes. It means the world to me.

It probably sounds totally banal, but the thing I have been doing the most to to make myself feel better is read comic books. I went through stacks of my old X-Men comics — we’re talking dozens upon dozens — until I ran out. And then I started ordering trade collections online. And going to the local comic store. I’m sort of embarrassed to even hint at how much I’ve spent on comics in the past month. I have paid rent before that cost less.

But they are really helping.

There’s this little thing called escapism.

It’s my friend.

It was actually my Dad that taught me not to be ashamed about my love of escapism. His theory? “I live in the ‘real world’. Why do I want to read about it? I want to read about things that aren’t in my world.”

And I’ve been reading comics since I was seven. My allowance, for as long as a had an allowance, was always enough for me to buy a chocolate bar or a bag of chips and three comics. So if comics went up in price, so did my allowance. And I ALWAYS spent it on that chocolate bar or bag of chips and those three comics.

(Who’s idea was that allowance setup? My Dad.)

I got out of collecting comics in university — too much money — but I always dipped my toes back in periodically. And I always had my friend Josh who kept me in the loop with trade collections every birthday and Christmas.

But now, I’m back in, baby. Full force.

I’m reading comics. To escape.

Is that a bad thing, escaping? Don’t know. Don’t care.

I’m taking my joy where I can get it right now.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the one in the corner hanging out with Kitty Pryde and Lockheed.

“dude srsly. what up. u r lamez. COME BACK TO THE INTERNET.”

-Sweetney

Hellzapopping, my peeps. THE GUILT. I have THE GUILT.

For the past [rustle rustle rustle] too-freaking-long, I’ve being buzzing along, with this nagging, chronic ache in my belly. An ache that said, “Sommmmethinnnnng… izzzzzzzz… wroooooonnnnng.”

But you know what I said to that nagging, chronic ache?

“Yo! My homey! Chill! Everything is GROOVY. I’m just busy. All cylinders firing, know what I’m saying? I’ll get back on that horse [Cut to shot of bleached horse skeleton in the desert, single tumbleweed drifting by] soon enough. Cool. Your. Jets.”

Yes. I really said this. And then I punched that nagging, chronic ache in the arm. Like a drinking buddy. Or second cousin.

But things… As they say — THINGS HAVE COME TO A HEAD.

I HAVE THE GUILT.

DAMN YOU, GUILT! STOP EATING MY INSIDES!

YEEEEEEEEARGH! MY PROCRASTINATION! IT GNAWS AT ME! LIKE A SECOND COUSIN, HUNGRY FOR PIE!

…

Oh. By the bye, it is My Lovely Wife’s birthday today. Shout-outs are appreciated.

As is, as always… pie.