I know my last two blog postings have sucked ass. This one won't be any better. You've been warned.

This is the year that beowulf is getting his shit together. I went pants shopping recently and had to venture into the 40" waist area (with my weight hovering between 270-280). On Jan 31, I also resumed smoking again. I usually eat 3 meals a day. Lunch around 11:30, dinner around 7:00 and whateverthefuck around midnight. I like eating because being hungry is unpleasant and a meal offers so much hope. I like smoking because it gets me high and is self-destructive. For some reason I get off on that: "yeah, I know I'm killing myself, but at least I'm the one doing it."

Self-destruction is a very romantic notion, but the reality is that by age 55 (when I'll finally have the free time and money to do what I want again) I'll end up dying from a heart attack or emphysema or both. So, I exert control over myself in the pursuit of moderation. I've cut out the midnight whateverthefuck meal for the past 2-3 weeks, which is fairly unpleasant, but if my bathroom scale is to be believed I'm hovering between 265-270 now. I have also quit smoking today again. Next on the agenda toward the good life of endorphic euphoria is regular exercise (code monkey has few opportunities for physical exertion within the normal routine of his day) and finally giving up coffee.