Dear Inevitable Comedown,
I think it's fair to say, all things considered, that I was expecting you. I was indeed, over the last two days or so, as I figure out how to deal with forthcoming events, actually anticipating and attempting to circumvent you. But once again you got the drop on me, as I was forseeing your arrival several days hence, not nearly-48-hours-after-the-fact. I am indeed impressed, Inevitable Comedown, very much in awe of your mastery.
It is, then, natural for me to wonder at your motivation. Can you not let me enjoy something for more than a day or two? Did I incur your wrath by lauding my success? Are you doing this just to toy with me? Have I become the event-junkie I always feared I would become and you are now the unshakable shadow that will be my eventual undoing?
You're correct when you chide me for not more enjoying the fruits of my endeavor, that it is likely my own fault, that I unknowingly called you down out of the aether... because now I have no excuse not to think about the other things I have neglected in favor of this pursuit. Like growing a better life, and a circle of friends I can see more than once a month at best, and, heaven forfend (ignoring for the moment the Bait&switch and Flat Tire fiascos), having regular dates again. It is likely entirely my fault for throwing my mental energy into one basket and now I am rapidly approaching my Jesus Birthday and it feels like nothing has really been done and nothing will ever be good again. I am working on accepting this concept, as it hurts less to do it to myself than to have the world do it to me (careful squiddy! that's the sort of thinking that landed you in a world of suck with the RF!), but I am not yet close to that sort of zen. I am obviously still at the Whiny McComplainerson stage of zen. I would ask you one favor, Inevitable Comedown, just one: Either back off for a while and let me sort this part out for myself, or come hard and fast and let me crash myself on that particular rock for a while, ok? I can do either of those, but not this protracted moderate sense of malaise.
Dear Pork Rinds, Heavy Cream, Sausage, and other amazing high-fat foods.
Thanks! Also, have I mentioned that for some reason I can smell better when I don't eat processed grains? I've been sorting through my perfume samples and oils over the last few days, making soap out of the ones that are less good and re-organizing the rest, and it's rather stunning the difference in clarity-of-nose I feel when my diet changes. It might also be the insane amount of veg I'm stuffing myself with, but I don't mind writing Salad a separate letter. Seriously, though, Pork Rinds, kick down a message to all your cronies in the meat/cheese drawer from me, ok? Keep up the good work.. with all your help, soon I will be back in the shape I was in before I went to Montreal and ate my (frites! bread! more frites!) face off for 10 days, then mcnuggeted my way across the country. I'm still feeling the kick from that one... hot damn my organs hurt for a bit after that.
Dear Roadtrip Self,
We know that this last time is far from the last time you're going to endeavor to drive across the US alone, so, remember this for next time: Steakhouses, big steaks with leftovers to eat the next day, salad bars when you can find them, or boxed salads from Safeway even, and lots and lots and lots of water, except in Pennsylvania whose water tastes like the smell of overcooked cabbage, forget those dudes and just buy water through that state, heh. And whatever you do, don't eat the bread rolls, that's just delicious, yeasty, warm, buttery doom in a basket. Continue to be vigilant about sunblock, and aloe with lidocaine is still your friend. Also, organize your pictures better, and try to be sober for some of them, and maybe get someone else to post them since you're too hard on yourself too often, so that they might go up in a more timely fashion. Avoid Arizona.
