There's a new weight-loss drug (well, a drug that is now approved in such a way that it can help weight loss) that helps curb your appetite. Fascinating stuff. Why, soon we may never need to feel hungry again, even when we are starving. 

I'm not against it. Biology is complicated and the human body has a hilarious sense of humor. Like how burning fat and getting healthy will make most people crave more and less-healthy food. And how the body can lock up fat and just never ever let it go. 

This drug is probably going to be very expensive also. 

But I'm not here to talk about drugs and weight loss. I'm here to talk about my profound struggle for meaning in a system that views me as a commodity. Are my very emotions part of this? All my desires, yearnings, dreams, hopes, romance, adventure, being cultivated by a culture that needs me to keep buying things without realizing there is no hope at all?

Jokes on them. No hope is when I have all the hope. Because of my depression, I think. 

I'm happy growing my bamboo. That's a good thing. 

My back is a little stiff. Perhaps I should hunt for a new pillow. Also stop lifting with my back instead of my legs. 

Yeah let's try the pillow thing.

I thought of something interesting. It's gone now. My bamboo is growing well. Clump Charlie put up two shoots at the same time. Crazy. 

I ate breakfast this morning and now I feel slow. My poor body is used to not eating any breakfast and now it thinks it's night, like throwing a blanket over a bird cage.

We're part of a secret society, you see. Why am I telling you? Because I'm not very good at being in a secret society. If I was in your secret society, I'd be much better.

There is much to think about. Much to debate. Ideas to take out and battle behind the old philosophy shed.

Many things. 

There is still a sense of loss. Of old injury that will never heal. It hurts less, though, and that is useful. Or perhaps the pain is the same, and I'm just bigger?

I can help people, I think. I forget that sometimes. I talked to my mom the other day. I'm sure she needs my help with something. My dad can do some stuff, but I'm still the strong one in the family. Surely something heavy needs to be moved about.

Bah. Bah I say. Not just me; the whole secret society says it. Bah! Like a sheep with a bit of congestion. Little bit of cud stuck in the old craw. 

Bamboo clump Foxtrot has a new shoot! That makes five of the seven, I think, that have put up shoots. What fun! 

I also got a new fez. It's fun.

It's a little smaller than my last fez, and I can't decide if I like the snug fit. Seems ideal for dancing and general cavorting because it's less likely to fall off. I'll have to test it out.

Dreams have been wild. I blame/credit my experimental pillow. In one dream I was outfitted with a bionic augmentation for my left foot that screwed directly into my toes. 

Sounds like someone is on the roof. The AC people were going to install some kind of upgraded system, but they said that some time ago and I had given up all hope.

I suppose I will find out, in time.

I stayed up way too late. After my walking, I took a nap. It was unwise to do so. Should have held out.

Tonight is another chance. 

The nephews have a birthday coming up. They will turn fifteen. Impressive rascals.

What else the hell am I doing? Not much.