I was fortunate when the mainstream adopted R&B/Hip-hop as its taste in music. In the past, the presence was there, and for me, I loved 1997 for it, but it is better served as accent pieces than this full-blown All-You-Can-Stomach buffet. And I don't think it is just because I'm drawing ever so nearer to 40; I began tuning out the mainstream into my mid-20s. This is nothing new of course. No doubt there were listeners drunk on the regalia of the 80s who braced against Grunge, that alt movement that wasn't so alt.

I know—I know this sounds like some "get off my lawn" curmudgeon rhetoric, but if you recall the opening line to this journal...I WAS FORTUNATE. The shift and my subsequent departure led to exploration. I listen to so much music today, yet I cannot name one top 40 song of this year or the last. I know "Shake It Off," but that FOUR years ago. I recognize Drake's name, but I wouldn't recognize his material; I'm a sleep-infused, portly, orange tabby soaking in the sunshine.

With music, along with many, many other things, life before the wide-scale adoption of the Internet in comparison to life thereafter...well, we are no longer under the corporate machinations that once informed us as to what is good. It's still there of course if you're still jacked in. But back then, the hand of a friend (a thanks to my wrestling teammate in '95 for Weezer's blue album) and radio airplay were all we had...play a song enough times and eventually its well-received: MmmBop...Mamba No 5 (yes, add those to the "(Not So My) Destination Getaway" soundtrack. Today, I listen to music entities that release their own content—yes, their cover art could use a buddy, a graphic artist buddy. If it wasn't for the Internet, I wouldn't have known about the synthwave / retrowave / outrun movement. I'd likely just regale in the rock of old and grimace at what passes as Country today, not unlike my father before me.

When I do come off this fast, I don't want to grab a bag of Lay's and plop myself in front of a Netflix marathon for a slow-while-frightening fervid march back into the 300s. But outside of Christian Bale career, who would follow that pattern in any weightloss system? Why the failure?

Clearly, as Professor X as I'd like to be, I cannot tap into the mind of everyone—just a few:

• Think about a chimpanzee...
• Think about a chimpanzee using a banana like a grenade and lobbing it your way...
• Think how it explodes Jell-O all over you...
• It's lime...
• A Bill Cosby sweater hangs ominously in the shadows...a disembodied "hey, hey, hey" hangs in the air.

There, see? Master mind-control. Now you're FREAKED out of your mind and covering your drink. That said, I only have my own perspective. When I examine my weightloss failures, it is generally due to it not being not organic to my lifestyle—hey, I've established a extensive tradition of what economists would call utility maximization, but what you and I would call a bit laid out in a Jim Gaffigan routine. Outside of a few extraordinary circumstances, past pushes were not sustainable once they move past their novelty of newness.

Success that I have had were ones when it was "just what I did." I didn't have to plan; it was just my goto option. Clearly, fasting doesn't fit in those parameters, and hence why it should only be brought in as a catalyst. I'll read about intermittent fasting and it just makes me shake my head. Emotionally, intermittent fasting is unsustainable out beyond eight weeks or so. Either go all in or go to the arcade. Don't hanky panky around the beach.

So how do I change my goto options? I'm using this catalyst period to establish them, rethinking what food is (and what it is NOT) and funneling those principles into their subsequent actualization. I'm dreaming of tomorrow and what it takes to get there. I suppose there's always details ad infinitum, but that's basically it.

Great tidings—I received my Upton Tea shipment today to guide me through this Nox slipstream. Below are the three I quickly referenced the other day:

• Badamtam Estate Second Flush Ftgfop1 Cl Tippy (Dj-69)
• Sencha Special Grade Yamato
• Orthodox Bop Darjeeling

They also threw in for free a black sample out of Columbia: Season's Pick Colombian Leafy Black Tea Organic.

It is surprisingly good. Sampling a black tea for the first time is like jumping out into a black abyss—if that abyss had a unit of American Gladiators swinging those giant Q-Tips. However, I got past unscathed by Nitro. According to its website, Bitaro makes "smooth, ‘subtly sweet,' and mellow teas with a beautiful amber color and soft kind flavor, great body, and teasing hints of sweet fruit raisins and dried plums...welcomed by consumers around the world who prefer these cup characteristics over more astringent and harsher cup qualities."

I was going to describe what I tasted, but that pretty much nails it. Now on the other hand...this morning's Early Grey tea slapped me silly with nausea. Yesterday, I experienced just a taste—wait, not literally! I exhibited brief symptoms...what is this, a police report? Fine. I felt funky yesterday. However, this morning—now that was a CRIME—wooo, boy howdy! If I were to take a stab at it, I'm guessing the tannins were too intense. Then again, I tend to reel away from bergamot. I find Earl Grey to be intense, akin to a morning blend. I transitioned from that to a ginger root and rooibos that I steeped together. Upton's ginger root has a far stronger bite than just picking up ginger root from the produce section.

My advice: don't take Earl Grey on an empty stomach. Clearly, Crusher didn't remove all of Picard's Borg implants. Dude has an iron stomach. With regards to this empty stomach, I'm sinking into a daily routine in this fast. It's critical—I suppose in anything akin to this, to be in rhythm when we adopt a radical change. This shouldn't raise any eyebrows.

All that aside, sometimes things just work out. I've reached the "no appetite" phase of a fast. Yet, it's not that I'm not around food; I still cook for the kids. My mouth waters something awful when I smell Louisiana Hot Sauce. If Heaven ain't got Louisiana Hot Sauce, I'm going to have to talk to management. Wait—that's Hell, isn't it? A subtle irritation for all of Eternity: better heed Brother James Salton. I love that its the first YouTube hit with a search for "Memphis Commercial." A shibboleth for my Memphis generation is "You'll never get no where smokin' the pipe."

Along with Louisiana Hot Sauce, I've loved Sriracha since being introduced to it as a vegan around '04. I ran across this on the Huffington Post and I think its spot on:

Louisiana Hot Sauce: Do you get tired of people describing you as a perfect blend of "subtle complexity?" No, of course you don't. You are an enigma, a classic person who likes to add a bit of Southern heat to any dish that calls for it. And with Louisiana's equal blend of cayenne and vinegar, nothing is ever too spicy.

Sriracha: You're a hot-sauce-on-almost-everything kind of person. But if you've gotten to the point where food is simply a vehicle for this now-ubiquitous Thai chili sauce, you've taken your love of Sriracha too far. Sriracha lovers can be adventurous, and while they may be interested in trying spicy foods and exploring their own heat limits, they may not have ventured very far just yet. In the meantime, you're happy to use Sriracha and its convenient green top applicator to get acquainted with hot food as you put copious amounts of it on almost everything in your path. And to freak out over any sign of a so-called Sriracha shortage.

As I drink this Colombian tea, a random thought: why is it so hard to listen to Darius Rucker's cover of Goodbye Girl? It was featured on cross-Atlantic flight I took in '04, my first time flying there, and thus reminds me of that moment. I've rarely heard it since...it's the last song on their greatest hits, but is singled out against U.S. availability—c'mon Spotify! It's a cover of course, but I prefer it over the David Gates' 1978 original. The things we tie to memories.

Good tea.