Yesterday, my room-mate and I went to the local athletics track and had our weekly sprint. No goddamn surprise that the bastard beat me again; he's built like a gymnast whereas I'm a swimmer - the muscles are heavily in his favour. He wins in the aerodynamics stakes as well, with his big bald head (as opposed to my luscious brown locks).
Afterwards, we went to a burger joint. I got a flame-grilled quarter-pounder with smoked blue cheese, onions, peppers, ketchup and a side of taco fries, he got a large bowl of cheese fries and a steak burger with lots of salad and mayonnaise. We both got large milkshakes - chocolate for me, strawberry for him. He's not much of a talker, so I don't know if he quite agrees, but, as far as I'm concerned, we weren't blessed with machine-like metabolisms so we could eat rabbit food.
When we got home, he went to meditate in his room, I started playing around with some bass riffs in mine, trying to put together a song. Jane sang like a bird but it wasn't happening today. It hasn't happened for a while, actually. I don't just feel impotent, I feel infertile. It's not that I can't get the emotion out, it's that I don't have any emotion to get out.
I need stimulation.
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