Trump in Washington, Michigan

Here's the thing: I really do not like Donald Trump at all. I did not vote for him, I do not support him, I think he is a bad man, and I sincerely hope that he is run out of office (preferably seated next to Pence on a very thin rail) before another month passes. 

And I think that his decrying everything that he disagrees with as Fake News is just pathetic.

Crystal?

However . . . .

He did this pep rally thing in Washington, Michigan, tonight. And before it even started, I was starting to worry about the way that CNN and MSNBC were approaching it. I read banners at the bottom of the screen that said things like, "Trump spurns The White House Correspondents' Dinner." I saw reporters stopping some of Trump's people--who were attending the dinner--asking why Trump wasn't there. I heard pundits saying that Trump's failure to show up for the dinner indicated that he had no sense of humor, that he was so egotistical that he couldn't laugh at himself.

And I have to say . . . that's not news. That's some bullshit, actually. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that it invites the accusation of Fake News. 

Trump is not obligated to attend this dinner, you know. And he's not obligated to let people make fun of him. And I have seen him show a sense of humor . . . and even laugh at himself.

Doesn't mean I have any respect or affection for him. Just means I don't think I need to support my lack of respect and affection for him with lies. 

ANYway . . . I decided to watch a little bit of the speech. And I decided to flip between CNN, MSNBC, and Fox to see how the coverage stacked up.

Got to admit, I was astonished at what I found.



Over the course of an hour, regularly flipping between the three channels, I found that I never saw any coverage of the speech on CNN. They stayed on a panel discussion and the Correspondents' Dinner. And I never heard a word of the speech on MSNBC. They had a split screen when I checked in, and Trump was on one of the screens, but there was an MSNBC person on the other side of the screen talking the entire time. And Fox . . . stayed on the speech almost from start to finish--missing only a few seconds when there were technical difficulties.

Now, it wasn't a particularly good speech. A lot of what Trump had to say was the same old bullshit that I have heard many times before. There were a few moments, though, when I could see that he really connected with the people there. You could tell that they saw him as being on their side, as a guy who would fight for   them. 1

Now, I don't think that's what was really going on. But instead of calling these people idiots and dismissing them, I wonder why nobody from the opposition is trying to address this. Instead of repeating Trump bullshit verbatim then saying that it's a lie, why don't they take hold of the narrative? Doesn't anyfuckingbody read George Lakoff anymore? 

And, more to the immediate point, when the president gives a speech, don't you think the news should cover it first, then have their say about the contents? Seems like the way to go to me.

But what the fuck, I'm voting for Senator Macron in 2020, so I've got no dog in this dog and pony show.

1  And I have to say that I didn't see any signs of a mind that was in disarray and decay. And that I did see some signs of a sense of humor.

B’MORE 

by Thomas Paul Kalb

Characters:

JAMES  42 years old.  Dark circles under his eyes.  He should always speak loudly (as to a person who is hard of hearing).

THOMAS  75 years old.

Setting:  The bedroom is a box inside of the stage area--visible walls left and right, but no back wall, and a low ceiling (no more than seven feet high).   A portable commode chair sits beside the bed, and there is a small table (with books, magazines, alarm clock) on the same side of bed.  Outside of this “box” there are no props at all.  It’s even better if the “mechanics” of the stage area can be seen, the more cluttered the better--but nothing added, just the real state of the place.  When JAMES and THOMAS leave the bedroom they will just stand outside of the box.  They will not mime actions to go along with what they are saying or supposedly doing off-stage.

THOMAS:  [Lying in bed.  Newspaper open in front of--and thus hiding--his face.  He throws it down as he says]  Enough!  Goddamned country isn’t just going to the dogs, it’s a fucking chew toy.  I’m moving to Ireland.  [He swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaches for the rail of the portable commode chair, begins to try to leverage himself to his feet.]

JAMES: [Enters after fifteen seconds, drying hands on his pants.] What’s up, Papa?  You okay?  You need to go to the bathroom?  Did you call me?

THOMAS:  James Matthew, I’m moving to Ireland.  Do you want to come with me or not?

JAMES:  Well, sure.  Where?

THOMAS:  I think we need to go back to Baltimore.

JAMES:  That was a beautiful place.  But it was so small.  You sure you don’t want to go someplace a little bigger?  Someplace that has more than one store?

THOMAS:  I don’t need more than one store.  As long as they sell cigarettes.  I’m going to start smoking again.  I told you when I turned 70 I was going to start smoking again, didn’t I?

JAMES:  You did.

THOMAS:  Might as well enjoy yourself once you’re that goddamned old.  

JAMES:  You always did love smoking.

THOMAS:  How old am I now?

JAMES: [Hesitates for a beat, as if he is thinking about lying.]  You’re one month away from being 75, Papa. 

THOMAS:  75?  Where the hell are my cigarettes?  [Begins lifting things off of the table--books, magazines, alarm clock.]

JAMES:  You quit smoking twenty years ago, so you haven’t got any, Papa.  [He moves to take the table’s contents from THOMAS.]  Why don’t you lie back down?  Do you have to go to the bathroom?

THOMAS:  No, I need to smoke a cigarette.  Are you going to get me some, or do I have to do it myself?

JAMES:  I’ll tell you what, you lie down and be still, and I’ll get you a pack of cigarettes.  Okay?

THOMAS:  You going to get them right now?

JAMES:  No, I’m not going to leave you alone.  I’ll call Jess.  She’s going to be leaving work in a minute, and she can stop on her way home and get you a pack.  Okay?

THOMAS:  Menthol.  Pall Mall menthol.  

JAMES:  I remember.

THOMAS:  You’re not bullshitting me, are you?

JAMES: No.  Now let’s get you back into bed.  [Helps THOMAS to lift his legs back onto the bed, then covers him with the blankets.]

JAMES:  Okay?  You want anything?  I was going to finish doing the dishes and then come in and sit with you.  

THOMAS:  [Sniffs.]  What do I smell?

JAMES:  One Pot Shabbat.  Does it smell good to you?

THOMAS:  Sure.  [Pause.]  Shabbat?

JAMES:  [Laughing.]  Yeah.  It’s kosher.  Jess got the recipe from somebody at work.

THOMAS:  [Closes his eyes and tries to turn away from JAMES.  Begins to cry, very quietly.]

JAMES:  [Immediately goes and sits on the bed, reaches for THOMAS’s hands.]  Papa?  What’s the matter?

THOMAS:  [Crying.]

JAMES:  What happened, Papa?  

THOMAS:  [After a protracted period of crying, then several deep breaths.]  I just never . . . .  I’m sorry, Jimmy.  I’m sorry you have to do this.  I know--

JAMES:  Papa.  I want to take care of you, okay?  This is what I want to do.

THOMAS:  If I’d known it was going to take me so long to die . . . .  I’d . . . .   When Mary took care of our Mom, it took everything out of her.  She was so tired, she couldn’t even leave the house, and I never thought--

JAMES:  Papa, you’re getting upset over nothing.  I--  

[The cell phone in JAMES’s pocket begins to ring.]

THOMAS:  [When JAMES doesn’t answer it, says:]  Go on, answer it.  I’m fine.  Please.

JAMES:  Okay.  Let me see who it is.   [Takes phone from his pocket.]  Jess.  It’ll just take a second.  Hello?  Yeah, hi, Jess.  Just talking to my dad.  Sure.

THOMAS:  Don’t forget to ask her to pick up a pack of cigarettes for me.

JAMES:  [Laughing.]  Did you hear that?  Okay.  Right.  He wants a pack of Pall Mall menthols.  

THOMAS:  And a lighter.

JAMES:  And a lighter.   Riiiiight--I think so.  Kind of counting on it.  Uh-huh.  One Pot Shabbat.  Yep.  Okay.  See you in twenty minutes.  Love you.  Bye.

THOMAS:  Do you remember that sailor in O’Casey’s in Baltimore?  

JAMES:  [Brief hesitation]  Yeah, I thought you were going to get into a fight.

THOMAS:  I did, too.   But he was giving Aileen a hard time.  So I wanted to get him outside and away from her.  But I just ended up smoking a cigarette with him.  

JAMES:  He was really drunk.  You know, Clonakilty was nice, too.  And there were more stores there, remember?  Even a music store.  And a book store.

THOMAS:  Yeah.  

JAMES:  And Dublin and Belfast . . . you remember all the bookstores we saw there?

THOMAS:  They’re too big.  No, I think it has to be Baltimore.  I like the strange, semi-symmetry of it. Born in Baltimore, Maryland, died in Baltimore, Ireland.

JAMES:  You’ve got a few years left in you.  Grandma lived to be 83, right?

THOMAS:  [Silent for a moment, then speaks, sounding very distant.]  One time she turned to me and said, “I feel like I’m made of sand.  And the ocean waves are washing me away.”

[A long silence.]

THOMAS:  No.  She was gone before she hit 83.

[A timer goes off in the kitchen.  JAMES rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and stands up from the bed.]

JAMES:  That’s our chicken, Papa.  Okay if I run and pull it out of the oven?

THOMAS:  Sure, I’ll be here when you get back.

[JAMES exits.]

THOMAS:   “. . . cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”  [Long pause.]  Fuck Teddy Roosevelt.

JAMES:  [Enters, wiping his hands on his pants.]  What’d you say, Papa?

THOMAS:  I said, Fuck Teddy Roosevelt.

JAMES:  Oh.  Timid souls?

THOMAS:  What would he know about it?  What the hell would he know about the way normal people live?

JAMES:  [He says this in a way that lets you know these aren’t his own words.]  Not a goddamned thing, Papa.  [Pause.]  You hungry?  Jess will be home in about ten minutes, but if you’re hungry, we can go ahead and start.

THOMAS:  No, of course not.                                                                           

JAMES:  Let me just take a quick peek at it, then I’ll come in and sit with you until she gets home, okay?

THOMAS:  Sure.  [JAMES leaves the room.  Thomas raises his voice] You know, if I’d stayed married to Clare, she would have taken care of me.

JAMES:  [From off-stage]  What’d you say, Papa?

THOMAS:  Nothing.  Sorry, just thinking out loud.  [Silent for a moment, then speaking in a normal tone of voice] She was only eight years older than you, you know.

JAMES:  Hang on, Papa, I’ll be right there.

THOMAS:  I actually thought that would be okay.  That it would work.  Stupid. Idiot. But goddamn, I loved that girl.

JAMES:  [A little flustered, as if he hadn’t finished what he was doing]  I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.  Were you talking about Clare?

THOMAS:  [Nods his head.]

JAMES:  It’s been a long time.

THOMAS:  I was 52 when she left me.  So what’s that . . . twenty three years?  

JAMES:  I’m surprised you still think about her.  

THOMAS:  Yeah?  Ha.  I think about her every day, Jimmy.  Every goddamned day.  Used to think of her every morning when I made a cup of coffee.  She told me that if I put my sugar and Coffee-mate into the cup before I poured the coffee that I wouldn’t have to stir it.  A barista trick, I guess.  She was a barista then.  Or maybe it’s just something women know.  They seem to know a lot of things that men aren’t privy to.  Or is it just me?  Maybe everybody knows that. Did you know that?

JAMES:  I like stirring my coffee.  But I’m sorry that it still hurts you to think about her.  I’m sorry that you still think about her.

THOMAS:  Would you stop thinking about Jessica if something happened between you two?  Or if something happened to her?

JAMES:  Of course not.  She--

THOMAS:  Is the love of your life?  Your soul mate?  Your true love?

JAMES:  Yeah, I guess I get that.  But . . . I hate to think that after all these  years you’re still in pain because of her.

THOMAS:  [Silent for a long pause.]  You remember when we walked into Baltimore from the Rathmore House, down that narrow little road?

JAMES: [A brief pause] Oh, yeah.  That was a pretty scary walk, really.  That road was barely wide enough for one car, and it was two way traffic.  And there was all that undergrowth right off the road, so you had to walk in the road itself.  And all the curves.  Good thing not many cars came down it, huh?

THOMAS:  Do you remember how when we got to the turn they’d painted B MORE on the road itself, with an arrow pointing to the west . . . it was just before you got to Casey’s Hotel.

JAMES:  Wow, how do you remember all of that?  

THOMAS:  You don’t remember the B MORE?

JAMES:  No, sorry.

THOMAS: We took a picture of it.

JAMES:  Oh, I believe you.  I’m just impressed that you remember that.  It was a long time ago.

THOMAS:  There might have been an apostrophe after the B.  It was eighteen years ago.  

JAMES:  Wow.

THOMAS:  Twenty-five years ago, eighteen years ago.  Your mom and I were divorced when I was 43, so that was what . . . thirty-two years ago.  You were born . . . forty-two years ago.  God damn, are you really forty-two years old?

JAMES:  [Laughs]  I am, Papa.  I--

THOMAS:  See, though, that’s it.  It’s like you look back . . . and you see the mountain peaks, you know?  That’s what you remember.  Maybe some of climbing the mountain.  But probably not coming down the other side.  Because that was just easy, downhill.  You know what I mean?

JAMES:  Sure, Papa.

THOMAS:  B MORE.  Or B [he makes an apostrophe in the air with his right forefinger] MORE.  They didn’t even have enough room to write the whole name in that skinny little road, ha ha.  And we only walked into town what . . . maybe 3 times?  But that stayed with me.  “Be more!”  How many cities . . . towns . . . encourage you to expand your life, your consciousness    . . . hell, your fucking waistline . . . every single day?

JAMES:  [Laughs.]  We always meant to go back, didn’t we?  

THOMAS:  But we never got around to it.  You know what?  That’s what happens.  The Meaning To-s become the Never Got Around To-s, and then you realize you're an old man who doesn’t smoke who’s lying in bed most of the day and waiting to die.

JAMES:  [Taken aback.]  Papa!

THOMAS:  Come on, no lipstick for the pig in the room, Jimmy.                                                            

JAMES:  [Turns his head at a sound off-stage.]  Oh, that’s Jessica at the door.  [Wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.]  

THOMAS:  Go say hello.  I promise I won’t die before you get back.

JAMES:  Papa . . . . 

THOMAS:  Just trying to lighten the mood.  Sorry.  Go kiss your wife.

JAMES:  Okay.  I’ll be back in a minute.

[James exits, stands outside of the bedroom.]

THOMAS:  Fuck it.  Time to go smoke a cigarette on the Baltimore wharf.  [He swings his legs out of bed and onto the floor, reaches for the railing of the commode chair and pulls himself to a standing position.  He lets go of the chair, takes a halting step, then another.  It’s as if he is walking on a tightrope.]

THOMAS:  B MORE, here I come.  [He takes another step, reaches for and grasps the door frame.  He draws a deep breath, then lurches through the doorway.  Stops outside the doorway, straightens, then walks to stand next to JAMES.  They do not acknowledge each other in any way.]

JAMES: [Calls into the room] Papa?  [Enters the bedroom.]  Papa?  [Desperately] Papa!  [James looks left and right, then drops to the floor and looks under the bed.  THOMAS slowly re-enters the room.]

THOMAS;  What are you doing?

JAMES:  Oh my God, Papa.   Where did you go?

THOMAS:  To your computer.  I was going to buy a plane ticket to Baltimore.

JAMES:  What?

THOMAS:  But I don’t know where my credit card is.  Do you?

JAMES:  What?

THOMAS:  Or can I use yours?  Jimmy?

JAMES:  Papa . . . you scared the shit out of me.  I can’t even remember the last time you got out of bed.  How could you even stand up, much less walk?                                                                                                                                          

THOMAS:  Really?  Hmpf.  [Pause.]  So you thought I was under the bed?

JAMES:  I don’t know, I didn’t know where else you could be.  

THOMAS:  I could have been taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot.

JAMES:  It’s not funny, Papa.  I was really worried.

THOMAS:  I’m sorry.  But it is kind of funny.  I mean . . . under the bed?

JAMES:  No, it’s . . . .  Okay.  I guess it is a little bit funny.

THOMAS:  What happened to Jessica?

JAMES:  It wasn’t her.  Must have been the mailman.  She’ll be home in a minute.

THOMAS:  Male man.

JAMES:  You hungry?  You want to go ahead and eat?

THOMAS:  No, let’s wait.  

JAMES:  Okay.

THOMAS:  But let’s all eat at the table tonight.

JAMES:  What?  Really?

THOMAS:  Sure.  Why not?

JAMES:  Papa . . . you haven’t eaten at the table in at least a year.  We always come in here with tv trays.

THOMAS:  There’s no tv.

JAMES:  Seriously.

THOMAS:  Well, I’m up now, aren’t I?

JAMES:  Okay.  Okay.  Here, you sit down for a minute . . . [he guides Thomas back to the bed and helps him to sit down] . . . and I’ll set the table.  Be back in like five minutes.  Okay?

THOMAS:  Okay, sounds good.  Why don’t you put some music on?

JAMES:  Okay.  Anything particular?

THOMAS:  Yeah, put your album on.

JAMES:  No, let’s listen to something else.  

THOMAS:  You asked what I wanted to hear.

JAMES:  I haven’t even played it in years.  And it’s not “my” album.  I played fiddle on it.  Twenty years ago. 

THOMAS:   See if you can find it.

JAMES:  [Shrugs, sighs.]  Okay.  [Leaves bedroom.]

THOMAS:  Oh.  Damn.  [He touches his hand to his temple and grimaces.]  Damn!

[Curtain.]

Again, Tweet Visions

I thought I was finished with the whole Twitter thing. I went in and deleted a lot of my Tweets, and then just walked away from it for awhile. I was going to delete my account, but then I started wondering if it was like a credit card, wherein I've been told that it's better not to close the account, but to just stop using the card. Which probably isn't true, but it sounded like it might be true. In a Royal Fizzbin kind of way. But I thought that was probably it for me and the Blue Bird of Crappiness. (I didn't delete all of the Tweets because there were a couple of Retweets that I didn't know how to remove, and there were a couple of Tweets that I actually wanted to preserve . . . like some Paul Gulacy stuff. And my cat video. 

But this morning I checked in to MSNBC for a second and saw President Macron talking to Congress, and I was interested in that, so I kept listening. I was pretty impressed by him, and I started thinking, "Man, I wish you were our president." And then I thought I would go back and do a little Tweet to that effect . . . because it didn't seem like there'd be enough there to write a blog entry about, y'know? So I took a picture of Macron on my tv and did the DeepArt effect on it, and when I went to put it up on Twitter I thought it'd be funny to act like I didn't know who he was, so I wrote, "I've never heard of this Senator #Macron before, but he's got my vote for #president in #2020." Which I thought was mildly amusing.

Didn't think anything much of it, but an hour or so later I checked back in just to see if anybody else had been amused by my tomfoolery, and was stunned to see that there'd been thousands of hits, and that the count was still climbing. In fact, it's currently over 18,000, and the numbers are still clicking up. There were also quite a few comments, most of which were liking it, feeling the groove. Some of them were calling me an idiot, presumably because they thought that I really didn't know who Macron was, which I thought was kind of funny. (I find that it is very often true that stupid people assume that YOU are the one who's stupid.) My favorite response was a guy who wrote back, "I think he's from Paris, Texas." Well played.

But as I've expressed previously  it just amazes me that I can get that kind of response to a thing that took me a few seconds to compose. It's 17 fuckin' words, man. I have to admit that I was hoping that it would translate into some hits for Ye Olde Town Blogg, but that doesn't seem to be the case. 

But maybe I'm looking at this wrong. Maybe instead of resenting this Twitter platform and thinking of it as a chancre on the lip of humanity, perhaps I should be thinking of how to use it. I mean, shit . . . 18,000 people read me today. That's something to think about.

Oh, wait a minute. 18,141.

Update
22 hours from launch, and there appears to be no sign of letting up:

In fact . . . in the time that it took me to post that screenshot there were another 26 hits. Very strange. 


Update
48-ish hours from launch, and the count is still rising:

Though obviously it's slowed down a mite. 


@ 72-ish hours:

And after one week:

Is that some shit or what? I don't get the impression that Twitter is big on remembrances of things past, though, so I'd think that this would be about it. Obviously it has slowed quite a bit in the past few days. So I will probably forget about this now unless something pops up. Still, it does give me pause: over 34,000 people read a sentence that I wrote. I don't think ten people have read the novels that I've written. Maybe not even five. It's possible that I am just wasting my time attempting to finish up the books I have in the air right now. Which doesn't mean that I'll stop, just that I'll have to battle that huge gravitational pull that futility exerts upon the human soul.

Sigh.

The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald

Yesterday I was having coffee with a friend, and he happened to mention (apropos of the wet snow . . .  except that it wasn't snowing  . . . or wet, for that matter) that he got the chills when he listened to Gordon Lightfoot's song "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." At first I had to catch myself, as my first thought was to interject that one of the worst lyrics I could think of was

"When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'

Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya

At seven pm a main hatchway caved in, he said

Fellas, it's been good t'know ya."

But good manners prevailed and I behaved like a good horse and held that bit in. I really try not to mock things that other people like, even if I think they're kind of stupid. Instead, I started thinking about the song as a whole. And I could see what Friend meant about it being a moving song.

After we'd parted, I kept on thinking about the song, and when I got home I looked it up to see what chords it used. I found a version tabbed for guitar which required a mere four chords: Asus2,  Em, G, and D. All chords with which I am familiar. So I pulled out my guitar and gave it a whirl. And it actually sounded pretty good. 

A plan began to form in my mind. I would record my own version of the song as a present for Friend. I don't know why that would be a particularly good present per se, but I thought that it would at least show my affection for him, and I liked that idea.

I started fiddling with it on GarageBand. It didn't take long before I decided that it was going to be really hard to find a drum track that suited me. (Why didn't I ever learn how to drum, for fuck's sake?) But that's just time and trial and error using the tracks available, so not a huge obstacle. I also decided that I wanted to use a 12-string guitar instead of my 6 string. And I actually even have a 12-string guitar . . . though I've never played it and it currently possesses only 2 strings. So a little barrier there, but not a big one. And I decided that I could hear a trumpet part, so I started working on that, and it came pretty easily. And then I decided that of course I would need some fiddle. A fair amount of fiddle.

And then the phone rang. It was my #1son, who is a fantastic fiddle player. So after we'd chatted a bit I asked him if he had ever heard of the song "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." He laughed, and I asked him why. He said, "That song just started popping up on my Spotify account."

What the fuckety fuck? 

Fortunately this weird ass shit happens to me so frequently that I was only startled for a minute, then I moved on from "I saw the same cat twice" to "Would you play some fiddle for me?" And he acceded, so I think it's going to happen.

Ahem.

Now I'm going to go do a rough cut with my old reliable 6 string. And probably no trumpet. And maybe no drums. Then I'll get around to doing up the 12 string guitar and all of the rest of it.

I'll post the rough version right here when I get her done.

But hey . . . what a weird fuckin' coincidence, right?

Okay. This is quite rough, but we'll see how it goes from here. 

 

http://phonynoam.tumblr.com/post/173266246145/just-a-rough-sketch-here-got-a-way-to-go-on-it

 

More news as it happens.

A History of Philosophy Omnibus 1

1,630 pages.

173 days.

Not too fuckin' shabby.


Onward to Omnibus 2 tomorrow.

Year 2, Week Nine to Thirteen: Just Like . . . .

I'm going to go full frontal confession here. And that means cutting past several levels of cowardice . . . but that's what I'm here for, I think. Unvarnishing my truth.

First level of cowardice being my reluctance to start this as a new post. Because I figured that if I tacked it onto the most recent installment of My Fat Struggle that it would have fewer (if any) readers than a new post, and that way I could ostensibly be up front while risking less of myself. But you know . . . the whole reason for putting My Fat Struggle up here was so that I would at least theoretically be doing my own version of Growing Up in Public With My Pants Down.1  And (1) I have to say that that was, indeed, a big part of my success in losing a whole lot of weight in a year's time and that (2) it wasn't just theoretical, since I can see that all of the My Fat Struggle entries have quite a few hits . . . a couple of them right around 1,000. (And, btw, the stats that I see only show numbers, no specific identities. You're safe here. Except for you Russian fuckers. I did install the Sarah Palin app, so I am watching you.) 

Second (and deeper) level of cowardice being the temptation to just keep tracking things the way I had been doing of late, and not make mention of that which I'm about to make mention of. Because no one would know. But the fact is that I've slipped back a bit from my "high point" of 185 lbs, and am now vacillating between 195 and 200, and I'm not happy about that. 

Third level of cowardice being . . . 

Oh, fuck. I don't have the strength to finish this up right  this moment. I'll be back.

 For now, let's just get on with the show.

1 And it has been pretty fuckin' embarrassing  let me tell you.

I'm BAAAaack. 

To resume: 

Third level of cowardice being . . . fuck if I know what I was going to write there. But I did have a little more preambling to do. Kind of with the intention of saying to my theoretical audience of people who are struggling to lose weight, "This is what fucked with my head, so you might want to be on the watch for shit that looks like this." Forwarned is still forearmed, isn't it?

So here's my official list of 

Things that made it hard to maintain faithfulness to my weight loss regimen.

(1) laziness--not wanting to count every calorie, not always wanting to exercise . . . though I did a pretty good job of keeping up with the exercising the vast majority of the time. 

(2) eating "extra" knowingly and just not caring. Sometimes I would justify this by saying, "I burned so many calories today that this won't work against me." And sometimes I would justify it to myself by saying, "I'm just SO hungry that I HAVE to eat." One of the things I notice in retrospect is that I was also not doing a very good job of drinking my 64 oz of water per day during this period. That's a must do thing . . . really for anybody, but most especially for people who are trying to lose weight . . . and for people who have or have had kidney stones.

(3) drinking adult beverages, which not only adds calories in and of itself, but which also ALWAYS leads to me overeating of the worst kinds of foods at hand (chips and pretzels, mostly).

(4) people making negative comments, like "Are you okay?" (as in "Are you wasting away because you are dying of cancer?") or the no-doubt well-intentioned, maybe even meant to be flattering,  "You've lost too much weight, don't lose any more." That bullshit really irked me, because (1) I know how much I weight and how much I should weigh, and (2) you're basically accusing me of having am eating disorder, and that is not fucking cool.

(5) people making discouraging comments, like, "Nobody loses weight and keeps it off." (This one was pretty much the sole province of fat people who had lost a few pounds, then decided it was too hard and started eating like pigs again. 1) 

(6) injuries. First my back, which forced me to give up sit-ups and leg lifts, then my elbow, which hasn't beaten me out of anything yet, but which does cause me no small amount of pain on a regular basis.

(7) hearing Jillian Michael say that exercising more than 300 minutes in a week damaged your body. (Shit, between cutting the grass, biking, and Schwinning, I did 150 minutes today alone.)

(8) being conflicted between the goals of adding muscle and losing weight. Those two goals only go together up to a certain point . . . and then they become irreconcilable.

(9) flabby skin. I'm fortunate in that the skin that shows on me fared pretty well. My neck is a bit baggy, but since I'm 60+, that is to be expected. What I really hate is my chest and stomach. They look pretty okay when I'm in a standing position, but out of the vertical it's obvious that there used to be more stuffing in this turkey. Looking bad in the mirror is not an inducement to strict dieting and heavy exertion. 2 (Whiskey, on the other hand, seems like a damned good idea. It's much easier to live yourself when you've been drinking.) I don't know if there's a cure for this other than the old nip and tuck, and I can't go for that, no can do. I haven't given up hope yet, though, so more news on this front if and as it happens.


1 I know that's not very nice, but as a friend recently wrote to me, "There's this culture of learned helplessness when it comes to weight and fitness that just drives me up the wall. It's science! Your body cannot beat the laws of thermodynamics! Burn more calories than you take in and you will lose weight, end of story. " That's what I'M talking about.

2 Speaking of which, I have learned a lot about failure from this past year + nine weeks of dieting. My typical reaction to failure on thus front has been to say, "Well, fuck it, then. Maybe I'll see you around." 3  Which is not a healthy perspective. 


 3 Why, yes, as a matter of fact that WAS an allusion to Roger Waters's The Pros and Cons if Hitchhiking. It is still one of my all-time favorite albums. I bought it when it first came out, thus still have the original naked ass cover version.  Wanna buy it? $357 ought to cover it. Call me. 


Okay, I think that was about it. For now, anyway.

That said . . . 

Year 2, Week Nine: Tuesday, 4/17/2018

Deep breath. Wake-up weight: 198.8 lbs. 

Breakfast: toast 140c, egg 90c, margarine 25c, coffee 20c = 275c, 16 oz water

Pre-exercise Weight: 199.8 lbs. To be fair, I did have 16 oz of water right before I weighed myself. But still . . . not a happy, smiling number for me.

Just to see if I could, I pushed past the usual 25 push-ups in the first set and got to 30. I think that was it, but there might have been one more in me. But I thought 30 was pretty good. 

And other than that, I did a full warm-up routine, full 62 Schwinn minutes, and full "LW"--the new, expanded, no longer Light Weight LW, too, with the 20 lb dumbbell cycle at the first Schwinn break, the first 15 lb dumbbell cycle at the second, the second, third and fourth 15 lb dumbbell cycles at the third, and the three sets of 15 concentration curls with 15 lb dumbbells after the fourth. Makes for quite a workout. I also kept track of everything on my pedometer this time, and according to it I burned 540 calories during this session (and took 9,492 steps). And I didn't even feel like dealing with this shit today, so even better. If you can push yourself when you are feeling unmotivated, that's a big win in my book.

Jet continues to like to harass me when I do push-ups, but has at least learned to wait until I am planking before she climbs under me. And in this case, it worked out well as I was able to use her to hide my flabby belly . . . which really looks kind of awful from his angle without a cat.

And Post Exercise Weight: 196.2 lbs. Not great, but I plan on working on it.

After that . . . well, I did keep track of my calories, and it was looking like a WIN day until dinnertime. Then I decided that Jim Beam's Vanilla Whiskey was calling to me, and I answered the call. It got ugly after that. So . . . going to have to reboot on the calorie count tomorrow. I'm not avoiding the specifics, by the way . . . I just don't know what the specifics are. Things got a little blurry between the fourth and sixth shot. But I know there was consumption. I have the peanut shells to prove it.

Sigh. I think I'm just going to have to accept the fact that I am going to go off the Rez on occasion, and be okay with that, and not let it deter me from sticking to my diet on the other days. Because the temptation is to just say the hell with it, and while that isn't the most terrible thing that can happen, it does insure that I won't ever make it to my goal of 180 lbs. 

Assuming that that is my goal. Which I think it is. At the moment, anyway.

Sigh.



Year 2, Week Nine: Wednesday, 4/18/2018

Didn't do a wake-up weight. Who needs the humiliation, right? Maybe mañana. 

As for today . . . 

Breakfast: coffee 20c, cereal with raisins and milk 320c, 16 oz water 340c

ham sandwich 273c, coffee 10c, Blacberries 47c
Crackers 200c, 16 oz water,pretzels 73c = 603c

Dinner: salad 110c, rice 160c, fish 420c, bread 140c, vegetable mix 150c, 16 oz water = 980c

1,923c . . . which is a kick in the teeth because (1) it's over my goal of 1,800, (2) I don't feel that I've eaten that much today, and (3) it's only 6 pm and I am mos def going to want to eat more tonight.

So . . . well, I went for a real bike ride today, about 45 minutes worth. And I was giing to leave it at that . . . but now I'm thinking it might be a good idea to get on the stationary bike and burn off a couple of hundred calories. Don't really want to, but maybe . . . .

Well. I did 45 minutes, and my pedometer (which tends to be conservative about such matters) said that I burned 573 calories, so I felt okay about having another 170c (ice cream bar and yogurt) before calling it a night. I also realized that my lawn mowing and biking had burned another 800+ calories, so I am thinking that despite my initial alarm and chagrin, yesterday was okay on the calorie intake vs. output.

Onward and upward.


Thursday got a little lost along the way.


No, wait . . . I found it.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Rough day. Mostly because of the cutting of the grass. I wanted to wait until later in the day to do it, but there was a hint that there might be rain, and since I pick the kids up at 2:30 it would have to be after that . . . so I girded up my loins and did it early on, as soon as the grass had dried out. And it was actually very hard. Only burned a tad over 300 calories according to my pedometer, but it really wore me out. So much so that I just kind of lay around until it was kid time. And then after making dinner I started feeling really shitty, like I was getting a horrible cold. So I packed it all in for the day. Didn’t track my food, didn’t exercise at all, felt really shitty, went to bed early. But I guess it was just an allergic thing with the grass, because this morning

Year 2, Week Nine: Friday, 4/20/2018


I felt pretty good. However . . . it was a difficult day ahead. I only had an hour and a half between dropping off Jacqueline and picking up Joe, and then I’d only have an hour and a half before it was time to take Joe to his doctor’s appointment, and then home just in time for Joe’s OT therapy, and then straight to drop the kids off to their mom’s house, and then only an hour before a dinner date with Pat. So I could see that it was going to be very hard to get in that 90 minutes + of exercising. It would have been a great day to take off, for sure. But I decided to see if I could bite the bullet. So at 8:00 am I started with some stretching and a 15 minute set on the Schwinn. Then took Joe to work, came back home and managed to finish all except the weights before it was time to go get Joe. And finished them up when we got home. So I actually managed a full day’s worth—and I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that. I also did a post weight exercise, and it wasn’t too awful: 195.6. Not great, obviously, but for now, I’ll take it.

And then . . . . 

Breakfast: soft boiled eggs 156c, crackers 96c, coffee 20c, 16 oz water

272c

Lunch: coffee 10c, chile 360c, crackers 120c, 16 oz water

490c

Dinner: sushi 210c, pretzels 90c, salad 115c, soup 220c

635c

So as you can see, things were looking quite good at that point. Total of 1,397 calories. And I'd already done a full set of warm-ups, Schwinning, and "HW"s, so it was all quite good. Lots of breathing room, even. But there was that Jim Beam's Vanilla Whiskey beckoning to me . . . and so I had four shots.

Whiskey 400c

And even then things were fine. 1,797 calories. Minus the 400 hundred or so that I'd burned up. And then . . . The Hunger. The Drunken Hunger. And I decided to let myself at it, with only one stipulation: I had to keep track of everything I ate. A little experiment, just to see how bad things got. 

Well, one of the things that got bad was my handwriting, but I did dutifully continue to record until the last bite that preceded going to bed . . . including the other three shots of whiskey (300c) along the way. And it looked like this:

the aforementioned whiskey, granola 170c, pretzels 110c, chips 140c, fudge bar 100c, pretzels 110c, crackers 200c, cereal 200c, cookies 130c, yogurt 70c = 1,530 calories.

And I will have to confess that even in my drunken stupor I felt that I was holding back just a little bit, that I really could've and wanted to eat even more. But that pretty much tells the tale, doesn't it? If every time I get drunk I'm eating an extra day's worth of calories, then clearly I am going to put on weight. It's surprising that I haven't put on more, really. I suppose that is some testament to the efficacy of all of my exercising.

I'm glad I did this, though. Even when you KNOW, it's easy to deny the impact of what you're doing. Putting it down in numbers like this makes it really real. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop having the occasional drunken roll, for sure, because hey, I like it. But it does mean that I'm going to try to find a way to lessen the caloric impact.

Year 2, Week Nine: Saturday, 4/21/2018

I was not anxious to do a Wake-up Weight after last night's debauchery, but I did. And . . . it was not as bad as I feared: 198.4 lbs. George Orwell weight. 

Breakfast: bran cereal 120c, milk 25c, coffee 20c, water 16 oz = 165c

Lunch: sunflower seeds 100c, pretzels 110c, granola 170c, ham sandwich 290c, crackers 200c, coffee 10c = 880c

1045 calories


Dinner: salad 150c, pizza 600c, 16 oz water

Which is not exactly what you'd call a low calories dinner, but, as you can see--TOTAL 1,795 calories--it still fit within my restricted calories per diem. And all would have been exceedingly well if I'd stopped there.

But even though I had not exercised today, and thus deserved no extra calories, I took them. 

pretzels 110c, 16 oz water, ham sandwich 270c, milk 100c, creak 170c, ice cream 100c, cookies 130c, which means an extra 880 calories for the day and a total of 2,675 calories. Which is not good. Which is not what I want. Which is disappointing. Which I can't even blame on drinking, as I didn't. 

And I want to do better.

But there is one thing. According to an online calorie calculator (at calculator.net), I need (need, heh heh) "2,696 calories/day to maintain [my] weight."

Now, here's the thing. I don't want to use that to excuse today's over-eating. I ate more than I wanted to eat, and I want to lose 15 - 20 pounds, so I have to do a better job of that. However, I have found in the past that failing to meet my expectations usually inspires me to fail more, to say, "Well, fuck it, then," and stray from my goals for an extended period of time. By putting it into this perspective--"I fucked up, but I didn't fuck up beyond repair,"--I'm hoping that I can nudge myself back onto the Skinny and Narrow Path. 

Here's hoping. 

Year 2, Week Nine: Sunday, 4/22/2018

So the day begins. With a Wake-Up Weight of 199.6 lbs. Ouch.

Breakfast: toast 150c, egg 90c, coffee 20c = 260c

Lunch: ham sandwich 260c, pretzels 110c, granola bar 170c, 16 0z water, coffee 10c, soup 60c crackers 24c = 634c

Dinner: chicken 300c, pretzels 110c, yogurt 70c, sunflower seeds 100c, milk 100c, crackers 200c, pretzels 110c = 990c

For a grand total of . . . 1,884 calories, which is just a couple of hairs above my goal. But wait!

I really wasn't feeling the energy for the exercise routine at all, but I pushed myself to do a little bit, and so did a set of push-ups / plank / ab stretches and the stretchings, then did a full on 62 Schwinn minutes at a pretty decent clips (1379 "calories burned"). And I also used my pedometer calorie counter, which is almost accurate--though it errs on the low side, so even better for me--and it said I burned 502 calories during the Schwinning, so it was quite a good day for the calories. And I didn't even have to starve myself. In fact, I indulged a bit, as you can see. All of which helps a lot, especially on a day when I felt that I had zero energy and about the same level of motivation.


Year 2, Week Nine: Monday, 4/23/2018 

Breakfast: coffee 20c, toast 80c, egg 90c = 190c

Lunch: Sunflower seeds 200c,  ham sandwich 260c, granola bar 170c,  16 oz water,  pretzels 110c = 740c                                                
                
Dinner: Salad 125c,  veg mix 60, fish 420c, bread 280c, 16 oz water
Chocolate milk 100c, orangecicle 100c = 1085c                   

pretzels 110c
                                
2125c total  

Exercise: full warm-up, full 62 Schwinn minutes, full "LWs." Woo hoo. 

Also, check this out:

Calories burned
According to FitBit: 736
According to Pedometer: 560.9

Steps
According to FitBit: 5,897
According to Pedometer: 9,853              

Pretty weird, isn't it? I can't explain the differential in steps, but I think the extra calorie burn according to FitBit is due to the fact that it counts calories burned on things like push-ups and weight lifting that aren't counted on the Pedometer. Which is really good, because that means that I've been burning more calories than I thought I was. 

Which also means that taking that into account for today, my actual calories balance is 1,389 calories . . . which is quite good. So good that I'm going to go have another snack.

And oh yeah, also . . . my post exercise weight today was 194.6 pounds. Getting there.



Year 2, Week Ten: Tuesday, 4/24/2018 


Wake-Up Weight: 195.2 lbs

Breakfast: coffee 20c, toast 80c, egg 90c = 190c

Lunch: 16 oz water, banana 105c, granola bar 170c, ham sandwich 260c, pretzels 165c, coffee 20c = 720c

Total: 910c

Man, it really sucks how quickly those calories add up, y'know? I mean, it's not like I've been sitting around stuffing my face all day...but I already have half on my daily quota in. Sheesh.

16 oz water, pretzels 110c

Decided I needed to lay off the heavy stuff for exercise tonight, so I did the warm-ups with just the first two sets of push-ups / plank / ab stretches, then the full 62 minutes of Schwinn. I am very anxious to find a way that I can exercise without hurting myself, and I am starting to think that might mean going full over to an every other day on weights, and maybe the push-ups as well. (Push-ups are really hard; maybe the hardest exercise I do.) I am thinking that that might also help me to remain more faithful to doing the bike every day, because obviously that is the big calorie burner, right? I did a little check in with the FitBit and a stretch / 20 push-ups / 1 minute plank / 25 ab stretches cycle apparently only burned 22 calories. That doesn't seem like a whole lot of bang for my exercise buck. I think that's what I burn in about a minute on the bike. Further investigation is needed.

But by the way . . . I also checked the full calorie burn for the bike according to FitBit, and it said that it was 505 (1329 according to Schwinn). I didn't check my pedometer before I started, but even now it's only showing 599 calories burned--which would count everything from the moment I got up until now--so I think it's pretty clear that I can only count on the pedometer to count calories burned on the stationary bike. (BTW, I have been wearing the FitBit all day, and according to it I've burned 2,199 calories today. Is that possible? I know that the body burns a pretty good chunk just doing its usual thing . . . and I did do a quick half mile bike to sister's house and back . . . so maybe. 

At any rate, time to do some dinner. And a few drinks, too, I should probably blush to admit, but I'm not.

And here's how that went:

Dinner: soup 240c, fake meat 84c, whiskey 400c, pretzels 110c
whiskey 200c, crackers 200c, whiskey 200c, orangecicle 100c, crackers 120c, cereal 200c, granola 170c = a whopping 2024c (oh my), which brings the day's total up to 3044c. Not acceptable. Of course, I did have that big calorie burn . . . . But yeah. I know. The way to a svelte figure does not include a whole bunch of trips downing 12 ounces of whiskey. But it was a nice little trip, I have to say.



Year 2, Week Ten: Wednesday, 4/25/2018 



Wake-Up Weight: 195.6 lbs

Breakfast: chocolate milk 100c, coffee 20c, toast 140c, egg 90c, 16 oz water = 350c . . . which is a bit high, but I really needed that chocolate milk. 

Lunch: 16 oz water, pretzels 110c, ham sandwich 270c, tomatoes 15c, granola bar 170c, coffee 10c, pretzels 110c = 685c

Total: 1035c

16 oz water

Exercise: full warm-up, 62 Schwinn minutes, "HW"s

Hmmm.
Calories burned count: 1,333 Schwinn, 586 FitBit,    480 pedometer
Step count:                                          5,124 FitBit, 8,432 pedometer

Strange, huh?

Dinner: artichoke hearts 30c, crackers 60c, rice 160c, roast beef 300c, pretzels, vegetable mix 150c, 16 oz water = 700c 

pretzels 110c, orangecicle 100c, 16 oz water, crackers 200c, cereal 210c = 620c 

So geez, that was a 2,355 calorie day. If I'd stopped at dinner, it would have been a very acceptable and nice 1,735 calorie day. But I went to the movies with Pat, and when I got home I was just hongry. So I did eat the stuffs. Which put me 555 calories over my goal. Of course, I did burn up more than that on the bike, so . . . . Maybe okay? Probably not, though.

Y'know, though, I was thinking last night that writing down the things I eat and the calories they contain is no fuckin' fun at all, but even when I miss my mark, I think the writing down of the details is a positive influence on what I eat. Because even if I do go over what I wanted to eat, I at least know for a fact that I have done so. When I wasn't writing calories down it was pretty easy for me to think, "Well, I probably did okay today," or, "Well, I might have gone over, but I didn't go over that much." It's rationalizations like that that kill a diet. That kill an attempt to reduce the fat on my body, I mean. (My Rule #2 of Dieting: Spurn Euphemisms. If you want to lose weight, move to another planet or consider amputation of non-necessary appendages. Hmm? Oh, right. My Rule #1 of Dieting (My Rule #1 of Losing Fat, heh heh) is: Count Your Fuckin' Calories, Man.)



Year 2, Week Ten: Thursday, 4/26/2018 


Breakfast: soft-boiled eggs 140c, crackers 96c, coffee 20c, 16 oz water = 256c

Lunch: pretzels 110c, roast beef sandwich 140 + 200 = 340c, granola bar 170c, pretzels 110c, 16 oz water = 730c

986c total


Butterfinger 250c, ham 60c, 16 oz water

Cut the grass, and then, since we had plans for the night, tried to go ahead and exercise just a couple of hours later. Didn’t work out so well. Very low energy. I did manage to get one set of the push-up cycle and the 20 lb dumbbell cycle, then 45 minutes’s worth of the Schwinn. Not too bad. Did another little comparison thingie.

pedometer: 

15,662 - 9,807 steps =  5,855

891.5 - 558.2 calories = 333.3

FitBit: 

14,189 - 10,744 steps = 3,445

2,473 - 2,037.0 calories = 436

Schwin

930 calories

Still don't understand the results, but what the hell.

Dinner: salad pizza 

Year 2, Week Ten: Monday, 4/30/2018 

Talk about yer lost weekend. It started Thursday, when I totally blew myself out by doing the Schwinn almost directly after I'd mowed the lawn. But I'd told the kids I was going to take them to an organ / violin / trumpet concert at St. James, so it had to happen. But not only was I wiped out from the strain, but the next day I really felt like shit, and I'm starting to think that its allergies in the wake of cutting the grass. Which is going to be a problem. I was able to get back on the exercising for Saturday, but then I just lazed out and didn't do Sunday. Well, it wasn't all laziness. Went to church late and it was an extra long service, and got home starving, and didn't have time to eat, wait, then exercise before track and field practice. So I opted to eat instead. Which brings us to today.

Man, this shit is unfuckingrelenting.

Breakfast: egg 90c, toast 70c, coffee 30c, 16 oz water = 190c

Exercise: Schein 62 minutes (1398), only two sets of push-ups and one set of ab stretches, all other stretching, full HW.

And irony of ironies . . . now I only have an hour and thirty minutes to cut Mary's grass . . . and no time to rest. Or really eat. But that's what granola bars are for, right?

Lunch: granola bar 170c 

Year 2, Week Eleven: Tuesday, 5/1/2018 

Y’know . . . I have to get back to the calories tracking, I know that. But I have been struggling so much to get back to the full exercise routine that I decided that I’m just going to forget about the strict diet for now and focus on that. It won’t get me to where I want to go, but allowing myself to indulge dietarialy will give me a little more incentive to get back up to speed on exercise, and I feel that that is my priority right now. If I fuck up and don’t get back up to speed in two to three weeks I’ll re-think it. And if I do get back up to speed on exercise, then I’ll shift my focus to the diet. Okay? Okay.

Exercise: all warm-ups, three sets of push-ups / plank / ab stretches; 62 Schwinn minutes (for a quite respectable “-1362 calories), full round on 20lb dumbbells, 20 rep set of 15 lb dumbbells


Not great, but not bad, either. Getting known.


Year 2, Week Eleven: Saturday, 5/5/2018

I've got some catching up to do, as I have information for some of the "missing" days, but for now, here's today:

Exercise: 62 Schwinn minutes with full HW and stretching, but just one set of push-ups, plank, and ab stretches. Post Exercise Weight of 198.2.

Year 2, Week Eleven: Sunday, 5/6/2018

All stretching, 25/1:12/25 and 20/1:02/25 push-ups/plank/ab stretches

Schwinn 361 / 68, 345 / 66, 332 / 65, 361 / 64

Full set of LWs

Year 2, Week Eleven: Monday, 5/7/2018

All stretching, 25/1:12/25 and 20/1:02/25 push-ups/plank/ab stretches + 25 more ab stretches

Schwinn 309/63, 334/65, 324/64, 171+186/67

A couple of tough days, but I got with it and have almost worked my way back up to full steam. Woo-hoo. Threw away the records for "the missing days," but what the fuck, ya know? I exercised most of the days that I didn't record, so it's all good.


Year 2, Week Twelve: Monday, 5/14/2018

The funny thing about hitting the wall is that you don't just hit it and rebound. Or at least I don't. I just kind of keep bouncing up against it. It's like being caught in a tide that just keeps smashing you against the barrier util there's not much left of you. But there's that moment when you're pulled away and you think, "Now I've made it, I'm free!" And then BASH. Again. And again. Etcetera.

So Week Twelve wasn't the total wash-out that you'd think from the lack of information. But it was probably one of my worst weeks. Part of the problem was I cut my grass one day and cut my sister's grass another day, and both times I was just washed out and didn't feel like doing anything more. And I went on a pretty long walk another day and decided that that was all I needed on that score.

But I made yet another commitment to get back on this rickety ass horse, so today I did an abbreviated work out: stretching, 25 push-ups, 1:12 plank, 25 ab stretches, 30 Schwinn minutes (344 + 354 = 698, which is pretty good, actually), and the 20 lb dumbbell cycle. I'm pretty sure I could have done the rest of the Schwinn without much trouble--I was feeling that relief that I get when I've missed a day, as the higher speed shows--but I was looking ahead to Tuesday, as I knew I'd have to exercise early (concert to go to), and I thought my best chance of getting a full session in would be to curtail it tonight. 



Year 2, Week Thirteen: Tuesday, 5/15/2018

Okay. Deep breath. I'm going to try to do this the right way for as long as I can. Deep breath. Suck the shame into the bowels and hold it there.

Wake-Up Weight: 

Now, I do feel compelled to say that I drank a lot last night--8 1/2 shots of Brown Sugar Whiskey. And ate some extra junk, for sure. So I think that's at least five pounds higher than it "should" be. But the fat's a fact, and I'm going to deal with it as is. This means that I'm about 18 pounds over my best weight, and 23 pounds over what was my ideal goal (way back when). So I have a lot of work to do. Not just some minor adjustments.

I've been listening to a book called Nudge, and it has given me some insights into this whole weight-loss thing. (It's not a book about weight loss, I hasten to add.) And it has revived within me the idea of how important keeping track of my progress--or lack thereof--on this blog is for me. I have always felt a bit chagrinned about doing it. For one thing, because it's embarrassing to admit that you're fat, and for another thing because it's even more embarrassing to admit that you've fucked up (repeatedly). And sometimes I tell myself that it's just weirdly egotistical to write about this stuff. But you know what? Fuck that. The tally numbers indicate that a fair number of people are reading these FAT entries, and I think that must mean that somebody is getting something out of my writing on it. Hopefully inspiration instead of amusement, but hey, it is what it is. And beyond that, if somebody doesn't want to read this shit or thinks that it's fucked up that I am continuing to write about it, they don't really have to read it. And the biggest thing, of course, is that it obviously helps me. When I was being steadfast about keeping track, I was losing weight. When I stopped, I gained 20 pounds. 

So let's go.

Breakfast: coffee 20c, toast* 140c, egg 90c, 16 oz water
= 250c, 16 oz water

* As for that toast . . . . The other day a friend asked me what I ate for breakfast and lunch. When I told her I usually had toast and eggs for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch, she said, incredulously, "So you have FOUR pieces of bread per day?" I thought that was kind of funny. So many people get wrapped up in counting carbohydrates as so many this and so many that. And it just doesn't matter, you know? If you eat 1,780 calories a day (actually my "research" tells me that that was low for me, and that I could eat more and still lose weight--details as they happen) when you're 260 lbs, you will lose weight. You can eat 1,780 calories of bread, or 1,780 calories of Twinkies, or 1,780 calories of chocolate, for that matter. Now, your nutritional needs are not going to be well met in some of those cases, but it's calories in, not what type of food. Maybe I'm wrong . . . but my experience does not indicate that. So if you like bread, eat some fucking bread, man. 

Exercise: Needed to go early today since Jacqueline and I are going to a concert tonight, so I decided to hit it before lunch. Did almost a complete HW set--

Stretching

Push-ups / Plank / Ab Stretches
25 / 1:12 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 25
-- / ---- / --

Schwinn
15:04 / 336 / 66
30 lat raises and 30 supine French curls with 15 lb dbs / 30 bench press w/ 20 lb dbs
15:04 / 337 / 66
35 bp w/ 20 lb dbs
15:04 / 331 / 65
35 bp w/ 20 lb dbs

17:04 / 392 / 66
for a total of 1396, which ain't bad at all.

And after I'd finished I did a post exercise weigh in and it was 198.2. So that's how you lose 4 1/2 pounds, right? Well, not for real for real. In fact, just to see what I could see, I drank 16 ounces of water and weighted myself again, and this time it was 199 lbs. So that's how you gain a pound in three minutes. (Just in case you ever need to do that.)

I also took some pictures of What I Look Like Today, because (1) I needed to assure myself that while I do want to knock this weight back to 180 as soon as possible, I don't look terrible right now and (2) I do need to lose some fat that I've recently found. And just in case you're wondering, yes, this is embarrassing. 

Yep, there's definitely a little extra belly there. And with that in mind . . . . 

Lunch: 16 oz water, coffee 10c, granola bar 170c, 3 oz ham 123c, bread 57c = 360c

610c, 32 oz water

Speaking of water . . . I am pretty sure that when I don't drink 64 oz of water in a day that (1) I eat more, (2) I feel at least a little shitty, and (3) I push myself another half of a step towards another kidney stone . . . which I haven't had to deal with for a long time, and would really like to avoid in my future. So as long as I'm back to counting my shit, I am going to try to keep track of my water intake, too.

Dinner: chicken (baked, skinless) 440c, vegetable mix 90c, Texas Toast 170c, 16 oz water = 700c

16 oz water, pretzels 110c, 16 oz water, crackers 200c, yogurt 70c, pretzels 55c = 435c

Total: 1745 calories and a whopping 80 ounces of water! WIN!

Year 2, Week Thirteen: Wednesday, 5/16/2018

Good "first" day yesterday. Now let's keep that streak going, boys! I feel compelled to mention that I also went to a concert last night (with Jacqueline, my favorite traveling companion) so I think I should get a little extra credit for not over-indulging on that kind of a day. Just sayin', sir.

Woke up and got on the scale and saw 

and felt disappointment well up in me for a moment, then the last of the sleep cleared away and I realized that this was 3.2 lbs less than yesterday's wake up weight, and I felt a little better about it. Still of course not happy, since I want to see 180 on that display as soon as possible . . . even though I haven't seen that number (other than a sporadic post-exercise weight a little ways back) since, oh, I don't know, probably the 70s. But hey, ya gotta have hopes, so they might as well be high ones, right?

Onward.

Breakfast: soft boiled eggs 138c, crackers 72c, coffee 20c
= 230c

Exercise: took a real bike ride . . . about five miles, though I can't tell for sure as my fuckin' pedometer doesn't come close to recording the correct distance. (I tested it out on a one mile circle in the neighborhood and it said I had traveled one-third of a mile. So I'm probably low-balling it here to say five miles, but I know it was at least that, so good enough.) Which should have burned about 300 calories or so. 

Lunch: banana 105c, granola bar 170c, crackers 200c, coffee 10c, water 16 oz
= 485c, 16 oz water

715c, 16 oz water


More Better Exercise:

Stretching

Push-ups / Plank / Ab Stretches
25 / 1:12 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 26

Schwinn
15:04 / 328 / 65
20 lb db cycle: 20 curl / rowing / shoulder roll / press / toe raises
15:04 / 319 / 64
15 lb db 20 rep cycle: curl / press / toe raises / rowing / twists
15:04 / 318 / 64
15 lb db 15 / 10 / 5 rep cycles: curl / press / toe raises / rowing / twists
17:02 / 365  / 64
1330 total--not great, but not terrible . . . and I was TIRED, man.
Concentration curls with 15 lb dbs 15 / 15 / 15

And you know what that means, don't you? A 100% complete LW performance. Wasn't easy, and I had to take a few breathers along the way, but I am feeling good about hitting it on the head.

Also, because I was a bit peaked today, I drank water whilst exercising . . . most of 16 ounces of water, actually . . . but my post exercise weight was still . . . 

 . . . and I have to say that I feel pretty good about that. Still got a ways to go, obviously, but it really helps to see a sign of progress as this early date. 6 1/2 pounds in two days? How do you like them apples, Marie?

pretzels 110c, 16 oz water

Dinner: ham 123c, 3 crab cakes 540c, vegetable mix 100c, bread 140c, 16 oz water, pretzels 110c, yogurt 70c, granola bar 170c, 16 oz water = 1363c

Which puts today's total (so far . . . I am pretty sure I'm going to be eating something else before I call it a night) at what would seem to be an unacceptable 2,078 calories for the day. But you know what? My pedometer says that I have burned 907 calories today, which puts things into a whole different light. So I will stick to my original conception and not label today a WIN, but I don't feel that it was by any means a loss. The proof is in the pudding, and my pudding weights 196.4 pounds today. (Or it did before I ate all those crab cakes and that other shit.)


And I did. Cereal 280c, chips 300c, orangesicle 100c, 16 oz water . . . which puts me at an all day total of 2,758 (not to mention 64 ounces of water, huzzah). Which is about 1,000 more than I was hoping for. But . . . 900 calories (actually more) burned exercising puts me at a net of 1,858, which is pretty close to the ballpark. Also, I read some stuff which indicates that my target of 1,800 is actually pretty fuckin' low for a feller of my size. In fact, I found one chart that said my daily caloric needs are 3,022 kcal. Holy shit! And another which said that I need 2,696 calories a day to maintain my weight, and 2,196 per day would let me lose 1 lb per week. Well, I'm a stubborn guy, so I'm still going to aim for the 1,800 a day . . . but I'm also not going to get all batshit if I don't make it--as long as I keep my eye on the net as well. I also would like to (literally . . . and I mean that literally) trust my gut. Like yesterday my gut was saying, Feed me, Motherfucker! Not in an I Want to East Mass Quantities way, but in a I Need More Calories way. Hard to distinguish the difference sometimes. Easy to other times.

Year 2, Week Thirteen: Thursday, 5/17/2018

Wake-Up Weight: 

Less good than I was hoping for, but we'll see how it looks later today, eh?

Breakfast: toast 140c, egg 90c, coffee 20c
= 250c


16 oz water
Granola bar 170c

420c, 16 oz water

Stretching
Push-ups / Plank / Ab Stretches
25 / 1:12 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 25
20 / 1:02 / 26
20 / 1:02 / 26


Schwinn
15:04 / 338 / 66
15 lb dbs 30 lat raises / 30 supine French curls
20 lb dbs 30 bench presses
15:04 / 350 / 67
20 lb db 35 bench press

Big Break while I went to pick the kids up. You'd think that would make the last 32 minutes easier . . . 

15:04 / 324 / 64
20 lb db 35 bench press
17:04 / 391 / 66
        1403

. . . but au contraire, it was much harder. Good numbers, though.

Dinner: fish 330c, vegetable mix 60c, 16 oz water, 110c pretzels, said 150c, chips and dip 210c = 860c, 16 oz water

After dinner I took the kids to Ahrens 2018 Graduation, and there were all kinds of good cookies and crackers and cheeses and punch . . . and I didn't have a thing. But when I got home I did enjoy 

soup 200c, banana 105c, 16 oz water

1165c, 32 oz water

For a total of 1,585c and 64 ounces of water. Hmm. 215 calories under 1,800 for the day?

Maybe a drink? Maybe a snack? Decisions, decisions.

Bran cereal and milk (150c) and some pretzels (55c) won out. And that puts the day's total at a very respectable 1,790 calories. And according to my pedometer, I burned 720 of those, so woo hoo.

Year 2, Week Thirteen: Friday, 5/18/2018

⏰Up Weight:

Breakfast: coffee 20c, banana 105c, toast 70c, egg 90c, 16 oz water = 195c

Exercise: 3 mile walk in the park with Pat.

Lunch: 16 oz water, kale and spinach dip 90c, chips 150c, granola 170c, pretzels 110c = 520c

715c, 32 oz water


Dinner: vegetable mix 60c, rice 180c, beef . . . well, actually it was a kind of rough day, and before I hit the beef I hit some whiskey . . . and continued to hit it . . . and the predictable happened. So I know I ate a lot of shit, but I don't know how much. So a wash out. Although I did feel a lot better about life after the 8th shot. I know that I am not going to be very happy when I hit that wake-up weight tomorrow morning, but sometimes you got to do what you got to do, am I right?

Year 2, Week Thirteen: Saturay, 5/19/2018

⏰Up Weight:

And that, my friends, is how you wipe out a week's worth of work in one evening. 

But I have to say (1) it's not like I didn't expect there to be consequences and (2) it was totally worth it. Just sayin', sir. Oh, and (3) if you lived with two autistic adult children, you'd find occasion to drink, too. It's not all buttercups and roses.

Breakfast: eggs 180c, toast 70c, 16 oz water, coffee 20c
= 270c

Exercise: 3 mile walk.

More Better Exercise:

stretching + full push-ups/plank/ab stretches cycles (4)
Schwinn: