Pell work today suddenly unlocked a power level that I didn't know I'd lost. I could throw harder and harder still and I felt there was more to throw. I eased off the throttle only to focus on moving, foot work and shield placement, but the little man in my head was chanting, 'Must hit sick, must hit ugly'; consuming all other thoughts. I had to tear myself away. It's still weeks away from the Mayhem at Mudthaw: The battle against emt_hawk. Mustn't over do it.... Yet.
Later, I did some hot tub time, watching the trees slowly turn to black, craggy lines against a quickening sky, the final orange glow radiating off in the distance while Billy Joel sang to me,
'Honesty, is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue."
Sing it, Billy. I'm hearing you.
I took tomorrow off so today is my Friday. Usually the binge drinking would begin and a host of Gentlemen, Bass ales, would line up for me. It felt a little lonely to be without them. All the more reason to be without them. I'll call for them when I want them, not the other way around.
A stressful day bled into the caressing, bubbling waters. I chewed up some Excedrine for lunch and chocked them down on a dry throat. Not the chewable kind, mind you. It's still hard to hear over the screaming headache.
Turn it up, Bill. Turn it up.