Grind

I've ben grinding my teeth recently. This *was* a side-effect of my old anti-depressants, but I've been on St. John's Wort for nearly three months now, so I'd be surprised if that's the case here. Still, ought to sort it out, as it makes my jaw ache, and it freaks out Jo when I do it in my sleep. On the other hand, perhaps it will give me a manly lantern jaw. I suspect, however, that it will in fact result in teeth like stubs, and perhaps over-developed jaw muscles like macho mumps. I've nearly run out of my current batch of anti-depressants, so I'll probably be off them for a bit, at least, while I get round to buying some more. Hell, I've got a job I'm fairly settled into now, I should be able to manage without. Plus the intense effect on dreams seems to wear off after a while. It will be interesting to see how things change. On the other hand, now when I experience weird mental artifacts, I won't have anything to blame but my own misfiring neurons...

Went to see Alabama 3 yesterday with Jo, Mike, Jeremy and Adrian. Consensus seemed to be that they were excellent. I was mildly disappointed that they didn't play Converted, which is one of my favourites, but they did do some great songs, and (like Jason Downes and Milk, who I saw a couple of months ago, and seemed to kick-start the current fad for gigs amongst our peer-group) they really seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some damn sharp costumes, too. Got myself a t-shirt ('Zero Tolerance. No drugs, no guns, no fun.') and bought one for Jo, at her request, as part of her present for our anniversary (arbitrarily set at some point in October). The other part of her present was a Bagpuss back-pack. She bought me a really rather sharp long black coat with red satin lining. I don't know what (if anything)this says about the nature of our relationship. Probably less than the fact that we've been going out for four(!) years, and haven't had any real disagreements...

Feeling vague. I spent all day (again) surfing web-sites which are the equivalent of empty calories: they fill up your time, but don't really provide much mental nourishment. And I'll probably go home and play computer games, which are quintessentially mental junk food. Don't know if this is behaviour I should be trying to check. What else should I do? I read a reasonable amount as well, so I trust that my brain won't actually atrophy, but how am I supposed to be filling my life? Silly question really. I don't often get like this. Still, I'm going to a play tonight ('The Real Thing' by Tom Stoppard, free because I'm reviewing it) so that should stave of my fear of becoming a vegetable.

Shit. It's late. I'm going home.

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