It's almost been a month now that I haven't chewed flesh of carcass between these molars. Feels good. Can't say I notice any big differences. I don't crave it, and the smell of it reminds me of sweat sometimes, but other than that. I weighed myself tonight to see, and the weight that I normally am in the morning, naked out of the shower, with no towel (detrimentally extra) was the same after eating two slices of French Toast, clothed, even with the sweater on. So maybe it has been beneficial. I didn't really do it for health reasons, though I wouldn't say I didn't not do it for that. Please don't ask me what reasons I actually have been doing it for, because I do not hold validity to any statements I may or may not make. I just wanted to try it for a while. You can't say that dreams don't mean anything though, because a few nights ago (for those of you who are not diligent readers of my dream-blog -- and I don't blame you) I had a dream that involved t-rex's eating trees.

My signature looks good. Tomorrow I'm sending a total of six poems to be submitted to potentially be published in a magazine called Spring, for Saskatchewan writers. I'm not expecting anything magical to happen, but I have felt a sort of lightness of step quickness of eye and brain these past days as it has drawn near. My signature is on the cover letter, sitting just to my right. If you were here I'd let you read over my poems. The titles are "This is What Boredom Said to Me", "A Sense of Who I Am", "The Frame Lynn Choked On", "This is Only the Start", "The Stockholm Slouch" and "On Not Liking the Feeling of Dependence This Morning".

So I have been breathing poetry for the last month in place of meat. I like it. For the class we have a notebook, which I plan to keep as a permanent writer-tool, to jot ideas. My latest include Zambonis licking ice (I went to a Pats Warriors game last night) and the feeling of putting a fresh pair of panties on. Pure brilliance.