Meyno Rx

March 02, 2004.

PNTS: 47.7

Alarm didn't ring. Not sure if I should get up today. The weight of the day to come pushing my head deeper and deeper into the pillow. For Christ sake by now they should have invented a drug of some sort so that anyone can simply get up, have a purpose in life, answer to their life's questions. Drag myself out of bed. Fix myself up some coffee. Got to be at the funeral home sometime around 10.

The hardest thing about working for the funeral home is that every time I look at the corpse, I see myself. I look at the corpse and I say to myself, my stomach will probably be a little bit flabbier, my privates will be slightly more abused, although my balls will probably be hanging just the same, one below the other, blue and frozen. I will probably get an oversize casket, which means that it will have to be a cheaper kind, to level out the expenses.

Lack of motivation to do anything is not the same as motivation to do nothing. No motivation is no motivation. If there was a store where you could buy one hour of motivation in exchange for one hour of public humiliation, I would probably do it. This is how bad it is. So I push breakfast down my throat and drag myself into the gym. I like gym. I spend 20 minutes tanning. Tanned skin looks much better whether it's alive or not and I've always had a good skin fetish. I also get to think. 20 minutes aerobics, 40 minutes heavy weight lifting at 90% maximum heart rate. Shower with aroma soap. Relax by myself at the sauna. From this point on my day will be great I say. I am going to do some more marketing, some more book writing and some more customer orders. You form habits then habits form you. The idea is to get to the point where my habits will transform my life into something worth putting into a more expensive casket. That's my fucked up motivation.

My first fetish is skin. My second one is one hundred dollar bills. I like the crispy type. One day I would like to have a safe with neatly packed bricks of one hundred dollar bills. As of today I have none. If I was to put together everything in my checking account I would still have none. This second fetish is the reason why I have started my own business working with funeral homes.

Funeral home. Funeral talk. Measure casket. Take order. Come home. Eat snack. One by one do orders. Call the guy at the factory, he wants to see me on Friday, talk about some non-funeral projects. Call insurance lady. She wants me to sell insurance, the pay is good and my hope is to get some of their crispy one hundred dollar bills into a safe. That would be nice.

Silent time with myself. Take pictures of dogs. Organize my book. 10 more pages. good. Exhausted go to god damn bed early. My skin needs some rest to look good.

March 3, 2004

PNTS: 500

Days are flying way to fast. Work, work, work, god damn work 24/7.

Muscle is my other fetish. How they contract, expand, breathe with blood always pumping through them. They are our slaves and they are our strength. Perfect muscle with perfect skin, this is what I am set out to do with mine.

Days are flying way to fast. Work, work, work, god damn work 24/7.

I wake up a little earlier. Blood sugar. Check. Insulin injection. Check. Breakfast. Check. Protein shake with metabolic pills - check. Get into the car, go to gym trees and trains passing by. Gym is where I let my mind completely relax and my body go all out. My plan is to become Mister Olympia by year 2007. And this week is my first week at the gym after a long break. Jackie is my "life success therapist" and she tells me - no more excuses. Warm shower. Seven minutes of sauna. At a $20 a month it's the best 66 cents a day one could ever spend...

10 a.m. funeral delivery.

11 a.m. take care of another order.

12 a.m. taking photographs at another funeral home.

Jackie is my "life success therapist" and she tells me - no more excuses. 6 hours dissappears into nothing as I finish the first section of my muscle book. See, you can't make any money as a book writer if you don't write anything, Jackie says. She is always right. And then again, she gets paid to be right.

March 4, 2004

PNTS: 500 WT 240

She had a shiny dingly thingy on her belly and you could see her abs on a well tanned skin and it looked just like the picture on the porn website I visited yesterday. It made me think whether the girl at the gym was the same girl I saw. Jackie is my "life success therapist" and she tells me - no porn sites. She is always right. After all she gets paid to be right.

I am not sure when I will be able to see all of my abs as sharp as I want them to look. And so I look at myself in the mirror.

Yesterday I spent 6 hours on my book so today I spend 12 hours on my designs. The expectation is to bring in at least 300 points. In the funeral business, deadlines are deadlines. No, really, they are DEADlines... How lame have I become?

Diabetes seems to be getting out of hands. Need to get back with the system. Plan my meals and injections. Too little insulin means high blood sugar. High blood sugar means no muscle growth. Workouts are useless. Too much insulin means low blood sugar. Low blood sugar means I have to drink sugar. Sugar means carbs and calories. Workouts are useless. This diabetes game has become old long ago, but what are you going to do?

Jackies says planning is everything. Everything is planning. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. If you are not a part of your plan, you are a part of somebody else's... Jackie is always right and so I plan. Meals, activities, workouts... 200 ab crunches finish up the day. Stupid day. One of many.



		March 02, 2004. PNTS: 47.7 Alarm didn't ring. Not sure if I should get up today. The weight of the day to come pushing my head deeper and deeper into the pillow. For Christ sake by now they should have invented a drug of some sort so that anyone can simply get up, have a purpose in life, answer to their life's questions. Drag myself out of bed. Fix myself up some coffee. Got to be at the funeral home sometime around 10. The hardest thing about working for the funeral home is that every time I look at the corpse, I see myself. I look at the corpse and I say to myself, my stomach will probably be a little bit flabbier, my privates will be slightly more abused, although my balls will probably be hanging just the same, one below the other, blue and frozen. I will probably get an oversize casket, which means that it will have to be a cheaper kind, to level out the expenses. Lack of motivation to do anything is not the same as motivation to do nothing. No motivation is no motivation. If there was a store where you could buy one hour of motivation in exchange for one hour of public humiliation, I would probably do it. This is how bad it is. So I push breakfast down my throat and drag myself into the gym. I like gym. I spend 20 minutes tanning. Tanned skin looks much better whether it's alive or not and I've always had a good skin fetish. I also get to think. 20 minutes aerobics, 40 minutes heavy weight lifting at 90% maximum heart rate. Shower with aroma soap. Relax by myself at the sauna. From this point on my day will be great I say. I am going to do some more marketing, some more book writing and some more customer orders. You form habits then habits form you. The idea is to get to the point where my habits will transform my life into something worth putting into a more expensive casket. That's my fucked up motivation. My first fetish is skin. My second one is one hundred dollar bills. I like the crispy type. One day I would like to have a safe with neatly packed bricks of one hundred dollar bills. As of today I have none. If I was to put together everything in my checking account I would still have none. This second fetish is the reason why I have started my own business working with funeral homes. Funeral home. Funeral talk. Measure casket. Take order. Come home. Eat snack. One by one do orders. Call the guy at the factory, he wants to see me on Friday, talk about some non-funeral projects. Call insurance lady. She wants me to sell insurance, the pay is good and my hope is to get some of their crispy one hundred dollar bills into a safe. That would be nice. Silent time with myself. Take pictures of dogs. Organize my book. 10 more pages. good. Exhausted go to god damn bed early. My skin needs some rest to look good.
				March 3, 2004 PNTS: 500 Days are flying way to fast. Work, work, work, god damn work 24/7. Muscle is my other fetish. How they contract, expand, breathe with blood always pumping through them. They are our slaves and they are our strength. Perfect muscle with perfect skin, this is what I am set out to do with mine. Days are flying way to fast. Work, work, work, god damn work 24/7. I wake up a little earlier. Blood sugar. Check. Insulin injection. Check. Breakfast. Check. Protein shake with metabolic pills - check. Get into the car, go to gym trees and trains passing by. Gym is where I let my mind completely relax and my body go all out. My plan is to become Mister Olympia by year 2007. And this week is my first week at the gym after a long break. Jackie is my "life success therapist" and she tells me - no more excuses. Warm shower. Seven minutes of sauna. At a $20 a month it's the best 66 cents a day one could ever spend... 10 a.m. funeral delivery. 11 a.m. take care of another order. 12 a.m. taking photographs at another funeral home. Jackie is my "life success therapist" and she tells me - no more excuses. 6 hours dissappears into nothing as I finish the first section of my muscle book. See, you can't make any money as a book writer if you don't write anything, Jackie says. She is always right. And then again, she gets paid to be right.
		March 4, 2004 PNTS: 500 WT 240 She had a shiny dingly thingy on her belly and you could see her abs on a well tanned skin and it looked just like the picture on the porn website I visited yesterday. It made me think whether the girl at the gym was the same girl I saw. Jackie is my "life success therapist" and she tells me - no porn sites. She is always right. After all she gets paid to be right. I am not sure when I will be able to see all of my abs as sharp as I want them to look. And so I look at myself in the mirror. Yesterday I spent 6 hours on my book so today I spend 12 hours on my designs. The expectation is to bring in at least 300 points. In the funeral business, deadlines are deadlines. No, really, they are DEADlines... How lame have I become? Diabetes seems to be getting out of hands. Need to get back with the system. Plan my meals and injections. Too little insulin means high blood sugar. High blood sugar means no muscle growth. Workouts are useless. Too much insulin means low blood sugar. Low blood sugar means I have to drink sugar. Sugar means carbs and calories. Workouts are useless. This diabetes game has become old long ago, but what are you going to do? Jackies says planning is everything. Everything is planning. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. If you are not a part of your plan, you are a part of somebody else's... Jackie is always right and so I plan. Meals, activities, workouts... 200 ab crunches finish up the day. Stupid day. One of many.