By Father Tony
Odd to feel so calm and centered. The inclination to irony and urbanity evaporated. Sleep is deepened. I form words on the keyboard with greater accuracy.
I ran two miles today along the beach with neither improvement nor impediment (nice literal descriptive there). I think it's the carbs in the wine that I miss, and yet, tonight I had to locate the roll of cellophane and refrigerate the uneaten half of a bowl of vegetables that I'd usually demolish. Is my body reading this deprivation as a time of famine, and is it adjusting the appetite until food can be located and speared? The ancient survival instincts of the thick thighed Mediterraneans awaken in me! I am strong. I am of the people who built Rome. Etruscan blood races through my veins. I would howl at the moon tonight but it will not be full again until the 30th of January. Instead, I will do laundry and then recommence reading Joseph O'Neill's Netherland which I am tempted to review before I finish it.