Nekot cookies now finished, my apple slices abound. I swear today that each moment will not be strung along by the next handful of whatever little tasty my fingers can grasp. Stress eating, anxiety, whatever name it cowers beneath - the my apple wedges remain, and a Nalgene three-quarters full.
I am unsure of the roots of that lunar pull, the one that hurls my ravenous mind in one concise direction and later jerks it back again, why there are weeks when I have nothing to write and then minutes where it seems that to not [write] threatens my very survival. I am and then am not. Currently I am. Compulsively I sit before this little window with head dutifully bowed to the glowing screen. I don't much care about the quality of content...well, I do and don't. Some things are just too hairy to write, too vital to the core for removal.
Later, something positive...and perhaps a nap.