Empty Ritz cracker papers stacked haphazardly in the trashcan attest to the week I have had. The little black scale in the bedroom will not allow me to deny my bender in the kitchen. Stew has been one of the more healthy choices in this pursuit of SOMETHING.
I crave SOMETHING much like a runner craves his endorphins. Chocolate fills this cavity in my psyche. Extra dark, rich chocolate. The texture glides across the taste buds like a satin sheet. Each area of the tongue awakens as if touched by a gentle lover as the sweet yet bitter sensations flow toward the throat. A faint memory lingers on the tongue, teasing.
If I spend an hour writing two paragraphs, imagine how long Tolstoy took on "War and Peace." I wonder if the words fell over themselves on their way to the paper? Or did he sit there starring into space for inspiration?
I hope to get out of the house tomorrow. I think I have cabin fever.
Later, Dude.
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