Ftrain, by Paul Ford

Having trouble filling the hole. Now I'm a ton over calories and need to chill. Days with muscle pain and hard exercise (looping Prospect Park 4x steady is much harder than riding to the Bronx and back) I have a different sort of hunger than the regular--I feel a little more wild-eyed and it's urgent for me to feed. Much like a dog scratching at an empty bowl.

It's surprisingly hard to differentiate between actual hunger and bored hunger; one needs to be fed and one needs to be distracted. It's also a ridiculous subject because I'm not actually hungry in a substantive way; that is, if I didn't eat I'd be fine, healthy, perhaps even healthier.

Anyway, the numbers look a mess--too much red--but so far it seems that it's okay to fill the hole, if it's genuine, rather than toss and turn at night feeling anxious.

(I'm sadly entertained by the Tiger Woods scandal. It's such an amazing car crash--well, literally, too--as we are treated to an ever-growing parade of delicious sluts. I eat crackers and diet cheese and read yellow journalism about an extraordinary billionaire athlete. That's who I am.)