Feeling better. Maybe. No alcohol today. My girlfriend and I fell asleep in one of the Monster Recliners in front of the Royal Tennenbaums, though she denies it. She does not sleep, she does not drink water, she holds me and rocks me when the fear of the Psychiatric Inevitable threatens to reach down and snatch me up forever. My mother has a jacuzzi instead of a bathtub. Did I mention that Little Tiny Brother's father died tragically at an early age and there was fat life insurance involved? That was 1997, though, and I think she is having to earn her own living again. I didn't even put on a patch today. It's not my fault. At the apothecary the highest strength they had was for smokers of 10 or fewer sticks per day. What kind of nonsense is that? Those people aren't even smokers. THe forces of the universe don't align to molest, mutilate, irritate, or annoy them. THose people wouldn't drive 10 miles over icy roads at night on a cocktail of wine, sample liquers, and benzos to get a pack of cigarettes. THey wouldn't drive 5 miles on 5 hits of acid to get a pack of smokes passing gas station after gas station seeking an open station for salvation. God I hate these fucking death bars. Now I think I'm going to smoke another cigarette. | |
Sunday, December 29, 2002
3:08 am
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