Wantiness

I am disillusioned and down. A long-awaited message from Jay is disappointing in its brevity and lack of... something. I haven't written back yet although it's been three days. I feel too depressed. I've got a yeast infection that I can't shift and have been diagnosed with a wheat allergy. Ho hum. More stuff I can't have. At least giving up wheat might help the infection.

My life is a wishlist. Here it is:

• laptop (mine is now only good for playing Spotify through)
• spectacles (the current ones are falling apart. I have glued them twice, honest.)
• holiday (to mountains - but who to go with?)
• bike (the front half of mine got stolen and... well, it's old and getting creaky. Nothing to be excited about anymore.)

I wish these weren't all the big things. I don't have a car, a child or an impending wedding to pay for. These are the biggest, most costly items in my life. And I could add a whole other bunch of things I wouldn't mind having: a new Mac lipstick; plants for my garden; a whole new wardrobe; a kitten; an interesting job; a baby (do I?); a dominant; a new vagina.

It's alarming. I wonder whether I am just a terrible, superficial materialist and whether any of it is justifiable. I consider chanting to the universe. I think about getting a full-time job (but my mind zooms away from that). At this point a sponsor wouldn't be unwelcome. I'd ask Virgil but he can't even afford to get his hair cut.