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Day 4 10:05 am -- Feeling okay

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Posted by Rocky Jones on June 21, 2001 at 10:18:25:

So this is the new life. It's not that bad. It just requires conscienscousness. If I had a badly broken ankle I would have to take care of it and in this situation I have a somewhat flabby belly and I will just have to take care of it also. The thing is, when your ankle is wounded it has a way of reminding you to lay the hell of off it. This flabby belly sympton does not have any sharp and active pain associated with it to remind me to lay of the chub foods. So I just need to be aware. I have successfully layed off the chub foods for four days. Not only that, I have eaten healthily for four days. It's weird, too. You start to eat a little healthier and emotions and feelings start coming up. shit that you never think of. I started missing my dad really bad just a little while ago. He died last year and I've had a hard time crying about it. You know, shit, he named me Rocky, if you can believe it, he wouldn't want me to be crying and so I didn't. He was a tough and distant man. I truly do not feel to this day that I have much of a sense of who he really is. And he did not leave many clues. He just was. He was amusing and he could be mean. And he was always bigger than me until he was about to die. And then he was like an infant. Massive cravings for fat coincide with these recollections. I used to leave my visits with him at the convalescent hospital and go straight to Fat Bones -- it's a greasy spoon out here in Detroit and I would order up the fat so fast. I would just want to dispense with the burger and shovel the grease into my mouth. When I eat grease I cannot feel and I have not had grease for four days and so these feelings come up. I did not know what to say to my dad as he lay weakening and dying. I did not know how to speak to him. I do not know if I ever won his approval or if he ever loved me. He remains a mystery to me and a wind blows through a hole in my heart where I miss him. There is a banshee call of loneliness and I wish I could talk with him. He was always so evasive about who he was and it ended up being so frustrating... and now he is dead and that is sad to me. But I think this eating illness that I have has to do with the fact that I want to medicate my loneliness with donuts and pizza and fat. But now that I can see it as an illness I can treat it hear, each day, piece meal, knowing that I am taken care of by a greater process than I can even possibly be aware of. I don't need to know anymore of it than that.

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