Running Amuck

Amuck: To rush about in a frenzy to kill; to lose control of oneself and do or attempt violence. (From Malay amog: engaging furiously in battle).

When I get up in the morning I weigh myself. Naked, of course; I wouldn't want a few ounces of clothing contaminating the exact weight, which never fluctuates more than a couple of pounds and hasn't changed significantly in 20 years. Even though I could stand to put on a few or 25 lbs I'm very aware of what I weigh. I rejoice at an appropriate weight and fume when I'm up, wondering what foodstuff the day before caused this rise. "Cheezits," I mutter sullenly. "Damn that greasy, salty snack."


I said something in jest to a friend in The Program that I think she may have misinterpreted. I openly abuse my friends and in turn I welcome their abuse. While this is all in good fun sometimes the zinger bites the wrong way, or I perceive this to be true. I've thought a lot about this possibly misinterpreted jesting comment. I think a lot about things that are not important at all. Once I lost my temper at the mechanic who works on my car. I wouldn't recommend doing this -- the guy could damage your Johnson rod and you'd never know the difference. I went back the next day and apologized. He looked at me: "I have no idea what you're talking about, " he said.


I get stuff in my head and it swirls around and lodges in there, but good. This stuff is poisoned fatally by the fact that no one is thinking about me. They're thinking about themselves. I don't think about anyone else so why would I expect them to think about me?

Because I'm really, really self-absorbed.

The Mouse is dirty. I'm vaguely aware that it needs to be washed, even though it's winter and cold and raining, and no one else cares about my car or how much dirt it's carrying around. I wonder if I should take it to a car wash or risk frostbite by washing it myself to save the $4. I wonder what other people think about my dirty car.

I keep a list of deals that I have won in my business life to help track my commissions. I also keep a list of deals that I have lost. I'm obsessed with the losses. I could care less about the wins. I remember the losses in great detail and wonder what I could have done to change the outcome. Most of the time it had nothing to do with me, but I think: "If I had worked harder or smarter I could have changed the outcome."


This is how I spend my time.