Suffice it to say, I have returned to a life of languid consumption of artisan donuts. I cannot afford these donuts, but in the tradition of women’s magazines and romantic comedies, I have hope that the passion and care required to compose their ingredients will somehow transfer to my own being. I would like the tattooed hands of a be-lipsticked hipster to massage my soul into balance, into focus, into place in a universe where bacon makes everything better.
The woman with Blackberries is paying in exact change. Perhaps she is god, I think. Perhaps she is god in the form of a lonely woman, testing me.
This morning, we found a video in our inbox. As she said in Day Five, Lara is feeling a little insane. “…was I in an elevated state?…maybe I’ll know tomorrow…I’m pretty proud of myself…I like brushing my teeth…pieces of ghost food…it’s pleasant to have something in your mouth…that tastes good…”
Rogyn24, I am sorry. I know I didn’t do anything to you, but I’m generally sorrowful when I imagine a life in which drinking herbal laxative tea is the “best part” of anything. What are the other best parts of things? If the best part of drinking My Own Piss™ is the herbal laxative tea that accompanies it, then the best part of sex is crying silently in the bathroom afterwards.
I haven’t started the full cleanse yet because I’m supposed to “ease” into drinking My Own Piss™, like walking down the steps of a too cold pool at a birthday party where you don’t know anyone and everyone is already in the pool, having leapt into the pool like carefree little sprites, and there you are at the shallow end, ducking to avoid a volleyball, hoping no one will notice you and that everyone will notice you and that you will be accepted or at least not made fun of.
Starting tomorrow, I will begin to remove processed foods from my diet, after which I will drink My Own Piss™ for ten days. My Own Piss™ is a mixture of lemon juice, pure maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and purified water.