I'm back. I've been back since Monday, actually. I'm not keen on delving anymore into personal circumstances than I already have, not for reasons of confidentiality (this log has always been, first and foremost, for me, not for others), but because it's a waste of my time. I was not emotional over this ordeal at any point in the slightest, except in regards to the only emotion I consider worthy: rage.
I ate consistently, thanks in no small part to plenty of beef jerky rations, and got a good bit of reading done in the hotel. At first, I regretted not bringing my Gameboy (Castlevania calls), but I all but forgot about it when was up past my intended sleeping time reading Warhammer. Something about Chaos Space Marines decorating the fronts of their tanks with the crucified bodies of enemy soldiers and nailing the flaps of their skins open so that the still-beating vital organs are displayed to the rest of the opposition's troops piques my interest.
Needless to say, I dreamt well that night.
Above: my future self.
Lifting resumes tomorrow. There will be blood.
Here's a group picture of me and my posse, upon returning from L.A. It wasn't a pleasant trip, but I'll be damned if I let that prevent me from getting a signature pose in.
