Here I have copied my latest “journal” entry, composed at my favorite bar on paper I stole from work.
As usual, the only kind of journal entry I ever seem to write in not only not in my journal, but also not on real writing paper – these are unusable January 2014 sheets I’ve snatched from the work calendar. I’m on a two-hour break relaxing at Raccoon with a pint of Grizz. They’ve started playing a bit of jazz which is always best in the afternoon. I’ve selected The Age Sunday edition lifestyle section from which to copy Sudoku puzzles. I’m not very good. A giant cover photograph of Hillary Clinton’s face looms up at me as I struggle to solve the wily puzzle. She is judging me with blue-eyed amusement. You try solving it, Hillary! You would probably finish in a minute flat, but that is no reason to mock me. Go campaign for 2016, already.
Also beside me is a copy of War and Peace. I glare at it from time to time, daring it to silently taunt me as transparently as the Hillary photograph. It stays quiet, but I know what it’s thinking. I’m barely 200 pages in, which puts my finishing date somewhere in 2017. I had such grand plans to be a Tolstoy aficionado by the time I arrived in Moscow. It was not meant to be, it seems.
Speak of the devil, it is now exactly a month to go before I must depart Melbourne, kicking and screaming most likely, armed to the literal teeth with candy to alleviate my suffering during the long plane ride. Hopefully by the time I get home I will be obese and diabetic and can properly wallow in misery while my worried family members bring me food and extra blankets day and night. If Henry thinks I’m going to move my gargantuan form to throw him the ball 5000 times a day, he’s got another thing coming.
The good news is, after I’ve done wallowing I will go on a juice fast in order to be nice and svelte for my Russian reunion with Wifey. She is so beautiful and pure, I will surely rejoice in my decision and enjoy my romantic year with her. How I look forward to whatever diabolical plans that malevolent mind will dream up for us. I anticipate being just as dastardly and depraved as I imagine the other Muscovites to be.
The Sudoku puzzle is calling. It thinks me unintelligent. We shall see, puzzle. We shall see.