I’ve literally been sitting in the same position for over an hour now, listening to a podcast featuring John Sherman, the inventor of the V-scale and one of the fathers of bouldering. I really want to go to Whole Foods and get an ice cream sandwich, but I climbed today and I pushed it pretty hard so I’m afraid that eating a bunch of sugar right before bed will make me significantly more swollen tomorrow. What I should probably do is just inject BPC-157, maybe take a shower, and then do all the boring shit I do before bed and eventually go to bed. Or not inject BCP-157. Doesn’t really matter.
I CLIMBED TODAY AND IT WAS FUCKING GREAT.
I love climbing.
I made progress on an orange I’d tried the other day (bump the right hand out to a crimpy gaston), started a new orange and made quite a bit of progress on that (need to rock over more onto that right foot Mark what is wrong with you!!!!!!!!!), and started projecting a new black that should go next session or at the ABSOLUTE FUCKING LATEST in the next couple sessions indivisible with liberty and justice.
I sigh and lean back on the bench seat I’m sitting on. The heater is whirring below me and to my right. I think I want tobacco right now. But I’m not going to buy tobacco. Well, nicotine is what I really want. But I’m not going to buy tobacco and I’m not going to buy nicotine.
Left hand up to the crimp, right foot up to the bad foothold, launch up to the decent jug.
I’m going to type with my eyes close now to see if I can really feel the rhythm of writing and get into it. Swaying back and forth. The creaking of y boat. The sound of the heater. The blackness of my eyelids.
These are the nights when I want some kind of substance. Alcohol, CBD, nicotine, anything. I just want my reality to be different.
Maybe I should snort marine collagen.
Or maybe I should just go to PCC. Get some treats. Why not? Why not go to PCC and get some nice green juice, maybe some kind of bar, a Clif Bar, maybe some kind of other bar like a Go Macro bar or a kind bar, or maybe go to an actual bar, sidle up to the bar, order a whisky neat, or a whiskey sour, some kind of highball.
I could go walk through Discovery Park right now.
This is what happens when I don’t have a good book to read.
Maybe if I feel OK I should just climb tomorrow.
I have some tea with valerian root. As far as substances go, that might have to do.
I feel like smoking weed or drinking when you’re bored is just so basic.
But existential angst is pretty basic, too.
ok enough of this. tomorrow is monday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
hope all of you are having a wonderful evening.
i promise tomorrow’s post will be worse.