addict

It's reached the point where I have to face it. I never go anywhere or do anything, and sometimes I don't even cook for myself. Internet addiction is real, and no fun.

Usually I manage to set aside an hour in the morning for yoga and another in the afternoon to go to the store. That's about it most days.

It wasn't always a bad thing, this surfing-and-posting habit. It got me through a wicked divorce and nasty drug withdrawals, a Desert Hot Springs summer and a Seattle winter. It proved to be the best way for me to self-impose the discipline it takes to spend an hour or two working at writing something every day. It's a relatively benign alternative to wasting hours watching toxicvision. And even though it keeps me in contact with people, it's no substitute for face-to-face interaction.

There are so many good things about spending significant time on the net that I'm not even thinking about giving it up. But I'm now determined to learn how to exert some kind of control over what's become a nervous, reflexive habit. And for someone with an addiction-prone personality, that's difficult-to-impossible, like trying to learn how to "control and enjoy our drinking."

Maybe the thing to do is not have a high-speed connection at home, which would force me to get up and go down to Greenwod if I wanted to get on line. I'd probably drink too much coffee and spend too much time sitting on ergonomically incorrect chairs, but it would be preferable to spending 10 or 12 hours a day hunched over my little writing desk waiting for something new to appear, or checking my bank balance 20 times a day.

I did manage to spend a couple hours soaking up the beautiful language of my 1611-edition King James Bible today (the O.T. Book of Judges), and it was wonderful. So right now I'm going to wrap this up, but some pinto beans and spinach and rice on to cook, and go back to those old Israelites, and how they smote the Canaanites and destroyed their "charets of yron."

--30--