OK, today was a tough day. Being at work was a bit more demanding on my attention than I'd expected, and my attention has become as predictable as a poker hand. I notice the way my energy and attention change, waver, disappear, return in force, depending on how long it's been since I downed a gulp of my power lemonade o' spiciness.

Walking home after work, down 16th and Valencia streets, the polyglot fragrances of culinary wonders wafting through the cold air, towards my nostrils, into my nostrils, I felt... Hongry, with a big old capital 'H'.

To deny oneself something, to refrain, to abstain—it's powerful. The well of latent power we all possess in our wills is at its rawest and most obvious when we withstand desire. Particularly, with food, this stuff of life, to choose not to take delicious sustenance when every part of me wants it, needs it, and it sits there, simply there for the taking. This is something the animal part of us cannot quite conceive. It makes no sense. It is power.

Or else it's all just fragrances and frustration.

I'm home, tired, and my tongue is white. It's supposed to be. It's supposed to be coated in white stuff as a sign of detoxification—and then possibly change other colors, too, before finally returning to perfect whole pinkness when I phase out of the fast and back into solid foods.

It's Day 5, and I'm pulling through. I don't own a scale but I know I've lost a few more pounds. I just feel like tiny parts of me are dropping away and what's left forges ahead.

Poop? There's not much left. The cleansing fluids are wringing and scraping my intestines regularly, and there's not much left.

I'd thought tonight would be a social night. Daimian's seeing a band at the Make Out Room. No, I'm heading towards a hot shower and popping in a movie.

Where's that jug o' gold? That lemonade, my lemonade.

--tony

Well, I woke up and felt all better. No sore throat. No teeth pain. In fact today was the best day in terms of discomfort. What I think is most interesting though is that today, after going through all the associated fears (Is this fast actually negative for me? Are my teeth rotting? Is my body the first body to have the fast slowly kill me? Am I safe or not?) marked the first time hunger became much more evident.

As I was walking home I thought about all the situations in the future where I will tell someone about my 10-day fast and they will reply, "No, I love food too much, I can never go that long without it", and how my experience is actually about my love of food. I believe it is common knowledge that whatever you deny from yourself extremely quickly and with great fervor becomes that which you desire the most. Alot of the cravings I had were initially derived from the fact that my body knew my mind made the ultimatum that I would not ingest any food. However, now that I am past those, I am having a deep, loving relationship with the culinary arts and am able to have some reflections as cravings...

I envisioned this amazing Vegetarian Philly sub I used to buy on Archer Road in my hometown of Gainesville, Florida which had sauteed onions and green pepper loaded with cheese and placed on a toasted bun - it would literally ooze out, yummy. I thought about the 2-for-1 white pizza's my parent's purchased when we were younger from Nero's Pizza, flecked with basil and cheap as hell. I flew back to college and my "me" days where I would order Pokey Stix (these insanely delicious breadsticks with cheese on them served with Ken's Ranch as a dipping sauce) from Gumby's pizza, pick-up a 6-pack of Tequiza (beer) and some cheesy movie and have some quality alone time.

Now that I am apart from food is when I am truly able to fully appreciate not only the immediate desires within, but the whole of my food history and all of the meaningful times I have had around it. Even moreso, now is when I will be able to almost with the utmost sincerity say a big "What, what!" to food, and in case it doesn't speak jive, "Thanks. Thanks alot".

Well, poop ya later!

--daimian

Today went pretty well. Some hunger and cravings (idle daydreams of sandwiches and hot hearty tomato-based vegetable and whole grain soups). But nothing overwhelming; food is oddly, slowly, surely receding into the "something other people do" category, like smoking, painting, or TV. I had some really sweet, soft, ripe yellow lemons to make the lemonade with today, and that was a treat. I've been using pure organic lemon juice in bottles, which is good, but obviously nothing can beat the blessings of freshness and ripeness. Natural perfection.

For those of you keeping score at home, I've been drinking a bit more of the lemonade the last two days. Burroughs recommends 60-120 ounces (2-4 quarts) per day, and I drank about 92 ounces yesterday and about 90 today, after only 64 on Monday. That's along with lots of pure water, of course, and the quart of brine for the flush in the morning.

Tonight was a time of unity. Team Relaxative got together for some quality relaxation. To begin with, on Daimian's discovery and recommendation, the two of us took a very traditional hatha yoga class at the Institute for Integral Yoga. This Institute is a delight -- it's a castle-like building on Dolores Street that I'd never known about, though it's four blocks from my humble abode here on Calle San Carlos. It's a full ashram devoted to transformative yoga, practical wisdom, and a full spiritual practice. The yoga class we took was on the top floor of four well-appointed floors, in a room with lush blue carpeting, exposed dark wooden rafters, and a large round turret. The class included the normal poses, but the instruction emphasized breathing and presence and meditation. It was a wonderful class, relaxing and centering, and I felt the twists and turns and shivasanas deepening the cleanse into my body.

Afterwards, Team Relaxative stopped by Lost Weekend Video for two-for-one movie rental night. Talladega Nights turned out to be a ridiculous Hollywood comedy of the pre-packaged variety, that nonetheless had some hilarious moments cleverly embracing, then skewering, NASCAR culture.

While at Lost Weekend, Team Relaxative stopped into the photo booth for some snapshots, doing our best Victims of the Master Cleanse impersonations.

Gotta get to bed. I'm actually going into the office in the morning.

--tony