Stability, routine. Erecting structures around my movements so as to fortify my soul. Scaffolding, a series of ritualized actions and obervances from which I will not only draw comfort and continuity, but that might also serve to gently numb my mind. To dull the passage of days, so that each flows into the other, brothers, differances washed away, a gentle progression of ordered events with me as the boat, carried by the momentum I will generate.

Of prime importance is the need to regulate my sleeping hours. I clearly need about nine hours a night. Furthermore, I need to sleep during the same nine hours each night. From eleven to eight. No, I should try and sleep from ten to seven each day. It will be hard, but I can do this by focusing my efforts.

The goal of all this is that elusive, early morning clarity in which I can find a few hours to myself in which to drink a mug of tea and read or write. Let's work this out backwards - say I wish to be at work each day by nine thirty. I should therefor have to leave my house at nine. If I wish to exercise in the mornings, I would then have to be back from exercising at eight in order to shower, dress and eat breakfast. Let's slow things down - back by seven forty five. Which means I would have to be at the gym by seven, and thus wake up at six forty five. That means being asleep at just about ten each night.

Having read up on sleep, I've decided to adopt the following routines: take a hot shower just before getting in bed. All lights off at the same time, plunging me into darkness. It will also help that I am exercising just after waking up. So - waking up from now on at six forty five. My social life my suffer as a result, but sucks to my ass-mar, I don't have much of one anyway. And I rarely do anything of any use after ten anyways.

Sleep is the big one. Exercise should follow naturally from there - swimming, biking, running and lifting weights. I'll have to adapt Jenni's schedule to my own needs, but in short I believe that I will soon be excelling in all departments. Sleep, exercise, and the final element is nutrition.

Ah, nutrition. Breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, early dinner, snack. I shall endeavour to do that blood test thing, and to actually put some effort into diversifying my breakfast so as to maintain a healthy interest in it. Look into smoothies. Look into pancakes, and buying fruits. Honey, french toast, perhaps even baking my own bread.

But no more waste. I shall put into effect. I shall shower now, long and hot, and then read some Don Quixote before endeavouring to fall asleep by eleven. Set the alarm right now for seven thirty.

VVVVVVVV
VVVVVVVE
VVVVVVEL
VVVVVELO
VVVVELOC
VVVELOCI
VVELOCIT
VELOCITY

SHE CAME FROM THE OCEAN, A CREATURE OF VERTIGINOUS BREASTS AND FUNGIBLE ASSETS. THE OCEAN, IT KIND OF SWIRLED AROUND HER LEGS, LIKE WISHY WASHY WATER THAT DIDN'T KNOW IF IT WAS COMING OR GOING. IN THE END IT DID BOTH. SHE DIDN'T NOTICE THOUGH. NOT HER, OH NO, SHE DIDN'T NOTICE AT ALL. THE OCEAN WAS HER WOMB, HER POINT OF ORIGINATION, HER P.O.B. IF YOU WILL ALLOW ME TO USE APPRAISAL TERMS, AND HER EMERGENCE WAS WHAT MATTERED NOT THAT FROM WHICH SHE EMERGED. MY POINT IS THAT SHE DIDN'T LOOK BACK, SHE DIDN'T EVEN GLANCE OVER HER SHOULDER, FELT NO SHUDDERINGS OF REGRET AS HER LONG LIMBS SCYTHED - NO - STEPPED - NO - SLIPPED FREE OF THE FRIGID WATER. IT WAS A ONE WAY TICKET, A TRAJECTORY WITH NO RETURN, A FORWARDS MOTION THINGY WITH NO COUNTERVALING FORCE. OUT SHE CAME, FROM THE OCEAN, USING HER LEGS TO DRAW HER FREE, TOES DIGGING INTO THE WET, HARD SAND THAT SHIFTED AND ERODED INSTANTLY OUT FROM UNDER HER FEET, LEAVING THE WISHY WASHY WATER BEHIND TO SIGH AND SUSSURATE IN HER WAKE.

SAYING, COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK TO US THELASSA.

BUT SHE DID NOT RESPOND.

Oooohhhhhh I feel love I feel love I feel.... love.

I. Feel. Love.

Feel it, lift your arms as the euphoria gathers, your eyes closing, your mouth curling into an irrepressible smile, your body swaying with such sublte energy, so much that you can barely bother to express it, instead rejoicing in the power that suffuses your muscles and bones. You're riding the pegasus to the rarest heights, through into the thinnest air, the sun pared down, pure, white light that removes all imperfections from your soul and leaves you essential, without want or need, a simple ray of rising golden light, spearing up and into the very heart of all warmth and being.

Ah, to wake up feeling this way each morning instead of blearily slamming the alarm clock off and pushing the dead sheep carcase off the bed so that you can swing your legs around and look dumbly at the wall for five minutes before going to the shower to wash off all the blood so as to begin another day.

Feel love? I know the sheep did.