budgetary concerns, and jiggering the business model in the face of the Buzz Feed kerfluffle.

I would spend 4.89, some 5-something with all the taxes included, on International Delights.  It was empty calories, sugar high inducing caffeinated bullcrap of a tailspin mentally and physically, and halfway through the carton, I took a nap.

"This sort of indulgence is unsustainable."

Don't we tell ourselves pretty little lies and platitudes, moral prevarications and so forth, things on mindset and mindfulness, listening to music, and we gorge as the whole place sinks ever further, with our reasons looking paler and paler as time goes along.

As a literature student also in the workforce, I qualified for "help" with groceries.

C'est la vie.

"Even the mailman?"

Throbbing little button that initiates the destruct sequence, that such a complex organism is given a way out, a way towards dissipation, and enjoy it as it burns while re-entering the atmosphere.

You didn't think something fearfully and wonderfully made would have a pathway to obsolescence and that there was, in fact, another world to see, even as the complicated diagrammed structures feed the worms, another world, by and by, somewhere in a kind of glory which surpasses understanding.

I took no "help" with groceries, and I found myself spending most of my income either in the grocery store picking up the odd fill-in items, or buying caffeinated drinks of the mocha and caramel variety.

Kevin somehow bought his sodas kind of wholesale with food stamps, and he, amazingly, earning 15-18K/annual qualified for government assistance with his medications, hopeless diabetic he was.  I remember his sugar shock glare, that kind of emptiness that is actually so devoid of thought that it doesn't even qualify as anything touching on confusion, as if he were beguiled or something, a pretty key ring in front of his eyes or something.

I would have International Delights again, someday, and in the meantime, I had the memories of past drinkings, and Dunkin' Donuts iced by the jug.  I took the DD caramel in the jug yesterday during a brainstorming session, putting together and discarding various ideas, projections and so forth, projections of how much or how little of my time had been wasted, and I had an infection of some kind coursing through my body making my perceived temperature vary wildly: imagine it 89 Fahrenheits, and I'm under a quilt, or the other way, 42 of them in the morning, and I turn on a fan to cool myself.  Body aches and so forth, and the energetic little knicky-knock of the caffeinated drink seemed a bridge too far, until the brainstorming session, putting things together while taking other things apart, and all.

It's the old addict's 'moment of clarity' when suddenly things become more readily apparent that even, and one is inundated with a plethora, a smorgasbord of various realizations, that come as fast as the speed of thought, but perhaps too fast for the personality, and one feels clean, slippery maybe like the eel, snicky like the snake, or something, and many things, though appearing different, take on a freshly plain palor.