Like a Rolling Stone

My boyfriend isn't talking to me at the moment. He is sleeping or resting... his excuse? "I was up late last night on acid." I'm sorry, but that's a shitty excuse. I don't get why he would think this is an acceptable reason to not be talking. I mean, I'm not saying that how you feel after doing acid is a totally social one, much more about sleeping and chilling, but I don't like being put on the back burner. I've been up since 7:40 am, biked around 10 km into the wind (you don't think that's important until you feel like you're being pushed backwards by the hand of Zephyr), and eaten an assortment of different foods. I'm sorry, but if I can be awake, then he should be. I know he doesn't mean anything by it, and it's not a personal thing, but it still pisses me off because I make myself available to him, even though he doesn't seem to give a shit. So... yeah, I guess I just have to remind myself this isn't directed at me, it's just how it is.

My face is sun-burned... I have a black eye. Well, a bit of a black eye. It's not a very badass story, it's not much of a story at all, really. I couldn't get my eye makeup off because I didn't have any makeup remover, and so I attacked my face with a towel. Now the area under my right eye is swollen and raw. La Rochelle and Ile de Ré was beautiful. The water was cold, as the Atlantic always seems to be (being from NJ, and having felt it also in Ireland). The towers and buildings had stood since the 1400s and 1600s, raising up above the blue water like sand castles. It was picturesque. Quaint. The people were a lot friendlier, although the drunk assholes on the street were just like Paris. I think it's a French thing to be loud and obnoxious for no reason. My friends and I were all having a good time on the metro until about 40 guys came on to our car. They were all French, but of African descent, and were obviously out enjoying their Saturday night. Suddenly, one guy started to grab this girl by the waist, putting his hands all over her; she--luckily--was not gonna take it. She pushed him off and grabbed her friend and got off the train. Another guy then begins to yell at the gropey one, and we watch as a fight begins to ensue in between the area where my friends are all sitting. I'm watching this, trying to keep my face completely immune to the scene, while secretly horrified and terrified. At the next stop, half of them ran out (along with the gropey guy), and I imagined this was when the gropey guy was gonna be beat up, so hopefully he got what he deserved. I just hate the shear lack of respect for women here, it seems to be all Frenchmen. It seems like they feel entitled to some kind of sexual response from all women. I don't get it. Probably never will. It pisses me off though. It makes me wanna show them the error of their ways. It's one of the major reasons I dislike France.

One of the perks of going away was time away from work, so I read one of my new favorite books: Forced Entries by Jim Carroll. Technically, I was reading it for school, but it was amazing. I love it. I love Jim Carroll. To me, he is the mind of New York. As I read, I listened to the Velvet Underground, the band that truly is magic if you listen to it as you walk down the streets. You feel their high, and slowly your feet are lifted off the ground and wherever you're walking, is perfect, you're perfect, and you can feel the pulse of chance down every street and avenue. I want to get back to the City. I've realized why I don't like Paris. For me, New York is a place of possibilities. Every time I end up walking around, something occurs, and my friends and I are off on an adventure. As we trek from borough to borough, drunk, or high, or simply confused we meet the characters that now make up our late stories. The strange nomads and pansexual EMTs, the smack heads and squatters (usually, one in the same), and at the same time we meet our own opportunities for a breath of a new life. Suddenly, we're climbing over subway turnstiles and stumbling home, walking the dark streets of Brooklyn or Staten Island or occasionally Manhattan, home. When we arrive, we recount, and lay down, and fall into the lap of the City that will create us anew in the morning, ready for that day. I'm ready to be back home and feel the beat of life beneath my sneakers.

I'll check you later,

- Lucy

Death Trip

Ron Asheton died today.

Lead guitarist of the Stooges... One of the true founding bands of punk... Probably my favorite band of all time.

I feel really weird.

The drummer from No Place to Pissed also died today. All of these people and bands I know knew him.

I don't know what to say. Today's a weird day.

In memory of Ron Asheton, I will post my favorite song by the Stooges:

Oh Shit!

My stomach... feels like... SHIT. Okay, so my stomach does what it wants. This is bad because personally, I like crapping. Not like, I enjoy, but I prefer it over not crapping (sorry this is kind of inappropriate dinner-conversation, not that we're having dinner, but you know). The problem is that me and laxatives don't work. You see, I learned this in the hospital, now, obviously, it's worse when you load me up with opiates for multiple days and then it's like, "what the fuck were you thinking?" So, there I just stopped taking their shit for a day, and then it all worked, but my 3 days of laxatives made me sick for the next two days. Today, after taking the laxatives the night before last, I can still feel my stomach just like gurgling and rumbling and ready to explode... Probably my fault for getting high on Monday night, but I don't know if I am quite sold on that... Whatever the case maybe, my stomach is being a bitch.

I am supposed to be finishing all of my supplements for colleges this week because my UofC one is due on January 2nd, and then two are due on January 15th (I've already written one), and then the last one (which I have already written) is due on February 1st. That's the last 4 out of 12. Yeah, I went a bit crazy on the applying to colleges bit, but whatever, when I'm done and accepted to multiple schools (which is definitely the most likely thing), I'll be able to relax.

I'm psyched about getting back to New York. I saw my cousin ('s cousin, but they're just referred to as my cousins because I see them every year), and he and his boyfriend live in Queens together. I told them that we're definitely going to dinner in January some time. They're really cool and it's nice to be friends with people who are far over 21. Also, I have to hang out with Tanzen and this new kid who likes me Alec (even though I'm dating Zack, it doesn't mean I can't hang out with guys, I'm not going to do anything with Alec - I'm too jealous to do that kind of shit to someone else). Anyway, I was hoping to get nice and high and roll into New York and hang with Tanzen and go to a diner and some stores and then wander back to her house in a good mood. However, if we are in the companies of "adults," then I'm going to see about getting us some whiskey. I love it. I love whiskey. My brand is Jameson - NOT Jack Daniels (mostly because I can't drink Jack straight, while I can drink Jameson straight... Jack Daniels tastes like shit to me).

I can hear my families making food in the other room. I can feel my stomach cramping up. I don't want to move. I've been really thinking about time and shit. Where I was last year at this time. I had just gotten out of the hospital two months prior at the end of October, I had to lie out of my teeth to a therapist so that my enjoyment of needles didn't get outed to my parents (oh yeah, I'm a dumbass... I have like panic attacks and shit about that whole incident.... terrible bull shit), and I was still digging a needle through the fresh scar on my left arm... Now, I have a much older scar, an incident that still gives me panic attacks, and no track marks for a little under a year. I guess, I'm doing well. I don't know. I keep thinking about New Year's resolutions like: No more drugs. But I know how unrealistic that is. I'm going to play it by ear. I'm trying to convince my mother to let me go on a roadtrip across country this summer and see all the things that I've never seen (Grand Canyon, Mount Rushmore, the Pacific Ocean (I've only seen it in Australia and New Zealand), etc.). This would keep me away from drugs for a whole, well, however long it takes, a few weeks at least. And maybe it will give me some insight.

I don't know, breakfast is going to be ready, and I want to read other people's blogs, so I'm going to stop. Have a good sunday guys, don't get too cold... = )

Love,

Lucy

Cleanliness is Godliness... and God is Empty....

(Now, the title is from a Smashing Pumpkins song. I don't really like them that much, I just know like three songs... but I felt like making that the title. Got a problem? ; )

Today is a snow day, which means I have time to blabber about my life and shit lately. My posts have been far and few between because of: A) applying to college, B) going to shows every weekend, and C) I haven't been high on ANYTHING for... well, since the wednesday before Thanksgiving, which is like 3 weeks. This kind of unintentional... kind of. In fucking February, I won't have shot up in a year... fuck, and I hate it. Because I love it. I do. Haha, I was thinking about that in the car yesterday (I love being a passenger in cars, I just sit and listen to calm music like Billy Joel (yes, I love it), and think about everything). It kind of upsets me in a way I can't put my finger in. I mean, sure I love the drugs, we all know that. I miss the action close to as much as when I don't have drugs... I kind of wanted to clean up my act for the New Year, no drugs, foreeeeeeeeeever. But I know that's not going to happen, haha, who am I really kidding here? Obviously not myself.

The other weekend, Tanzen and I were talking about shit, like we usually do. She told me that she lost her virginity like OVER the summer, and had not told me. Now, okay, so I don't want the details, that's not why I'm pissed. I'm pissed because I'm her friend who tells her anything and I feel bad when I don't tell her shit and she asks. Not that I asked about her losing her virginity, it's just like a lie by omission. She knows everything, and she kind of enjoys hearing about me and drugs and shit, as far as I can tell at least. So, we've made up this policy: full disclosure, for me she can ask me anything about drugs (she made me fucking list out the drugs I had done, haha, and in my mind I thought, "this isn't fucking humiliating," and then started to say shit) and I can ask her anything about her fucking guys.

My biggest problem with her fucking people is that: A) these guys are terrible, I know them, they're not attractive, nice, or even good people (that was my first problem with it), and B) I think she thinks it's a means to an ends of dating. I don't know, I love Tanzen, and I feel protective over her, even if I'm a dumbass and do a lot of retarded shit with my body. But, I don't believe I can die, because I'm a teenager, and I have no brain.

Speaking of me believing I can't die, a girl I know died this week. Really weird shit, because she was one I've talked about here before I think. 

Well, I give you her backstory: Last year, when she was a freshmen, she fell in with a few of my friends who were basically making themselves perfect candidates for future crackheads (I mean that literally), and so they all began to try any drug they could get their hands. This led to many of them getting sent to inpatient and outpatient rehab. She got sent into inpatient rehab for like multiple months, came home for two weeks, and then got sent right back. I remember, last year, we were all sitting at lunch and she would sit with us. She was talk about getting the results of a drug test back, and it came up positive for: opiates, cannabis, and PCP... and then she says to us, "But, guys, can someone tell me what PCP is?" I was about to start laughing, but I managed to keep my mouth shut and focus on my food. Apparently, she ODed on 'Trip C's'... Of all the drugs to die from, CODEINE. Now, having personally never tried codeine, but knowing that it's the low man on the totem pole, here are my two theories: A) the acetaminophen in tylenol3s, as in all products, can kill you if you take too much because your liver cannot process it fast enough, which means that she most likely really ODed on tylenol (haha, I know my shit man, I'm still a nerd at heart), or B) she somehow managed to get a LOT of codeine. But, the first part is obviously more likely, which is sad. I'm thinking about going to her wake, because in some ways, I did know her and she seemed like a nice person. If anything, she was just a bit clueless about life, which is sad. 

I've been pondering getting high today, here are my two concerns: 1... my friends wanted to go sledding really trashed, I think I'm being roped into smoking weed, and they want to drink too, so I have to choose. 2... I don't want to be nodding out on my Lauren's couch with her parents home, thinking, "what the fuck is wrong with Lucy?" Actually, it's Lauren's birthday today, she is turning the big ONE EIGHT, and so it would be kind of assholeish of me to get high before I go over... not that I haven't done it in the past, it just feels like a while.

Zack should be coming over and hanging out today, and I really can't wait. I really like him... it's kind of terrible. He likes me too, I know it, it's obvious. He has hair down to his waste, and I have like no hair, so it's a really funny pair that we make. We play guitar together, he even thinks my singing is good, haha, he obviously must like me because that's a hefty lie right there = ).

I'm leaving for TX on the 23, and I'm psyched for Xmas! It's going to be so much fun, I seriously cannot wait, but who can ever wait for Xmas? I can't wait to hang with my cousins, it's going to be great, they're my favorite people, EVER. Haha, family fun in TX, it's going to be great.

I'm doing well in school, I have an A+ in Statistics and LATIN. I've never gotten an A+ in Latin, so I kind of want to start praying to God or something, because he obviously had a hand in that. 

I've been going to shows for the past 5 weekends (besides one, which was my friend's birthday party in Brooklyn), which has meant me in NYC as well. I really am an NYC punk at heart, no question. I love my scene, it's the greatest place in the world. It's funny because I really do have so much NYHC pride, even though I'm from Jersey. You can all give me shit for that, but, taking Jordan's advice, I'd just tell you, "fuck off" and if you kept going well I'd probably say something like, "do you want to go?" And me being, so intimidating (lies...), you would be afraid and run in your little shiny boots. Haha, there is a girl and her crew that my friends and I have beef with. I HATE HER. She looks kind of like Chris Crocker, the one who was all LEAVE BRITENY ALONE! She's ugly as fuck and is such a little myspace whore. The funniest shit is she is bragging  about being friends with this guy Blackout Matt who is friends with everyone, and I was like, "haha, everyone is friends with him, you're not special." The funny thing is that all of these grey-hairs have adopted me as like their little teenage punk to look after. Seriously. They hang out with me at shows, some give me whiskey and beers, they give me their band's shit for free. Papa Jay is my adopted father, who gives me whiskey of course. I love him, he's so cool, and he supports all of my crazy creative shit I do. But, yeah, that girl can suck it. The only thing I worry about is that there's going to be a show on the 27th that I know her and her friends will be at. I won't be there because I'll be there, but my other friends will be. I don't want her messing with my friends, I get very mama tiger around my friends who are girls. Mostly because out of all of them I am the only one in the pit with the boys, the only one who could take a fight, who would take a fight. If she fucks with my friends, then it's on. No one can fuck with my friends and get away with it. Even if we fight and I get really fucked up, I'd rather that then her giving my friends shit.

BTW, I'm working on my chap book of poetry for the New Year, it should be fantastic (obviously). Haha, so, I'm sure that will be exciting. I'm trying to get more bands to let me read poetry at their shows, because it's so much fun. Yeah, I love it... I feel really cool when people call me "Lucy B." because that's like my name. Woah, I have a nickname in the NYC punk scene. Stop laughing, it's really cool to me! = ) Haha, I'm such a teenager.

Well, guys, merry Christmas! Happy Chanukah! Happy New Years! I'll be posting to y'all in the new year, if not sooner... with some resolutions, hopefully. = )

Check ya later!

Love from the East Coast! = )

- Lucinda!

Teenagers from Mars

I don't have anything amazing to say, nothing insightful I feel completely drained of all thought. I've been so tired lately that I don't even want to get high, all I want is to be kept warm and left alone to sleep. I took a shower last night and I felt so good, my skin was so soft and I felt really warm and nice. Just kinda like everything that goes on had been washed off.

So, after skipping school yesterday to make sure Lauren didn't kill herself, even though my dad wrote me a note to make sure I didn't get in trouble, could still result in a detention (my first ever... I'm an angel, okay?).  Fuck, that will piss me off.

Not sick right now, THANK GOD! Man, if it's not one thing it's another with me. I have a blood test on Saturday, which is always entertaining. Haha, only the most skilled can hit veins in my right arm (which means that I was always screwed, especially cause I was using my left hand). Fuck, watching those people just stare at my arms, is enough to make me crazy. And then I gotta go pee in a cup, etc etc. It's for my arthritis, which is good because it also keeps tab of how my liver is doing. I'm really worried about fucking it up in the long run, but it's pretty safe for now.

I'm eating some pretty tasty Lucky Charms, and I just worked on my College apps, read some Naked Lunch... Life's okay today. All the songs coming up are really good on my shuffled play list. It makes me happy, it's the perfect stuff.

Tomorrow Anthony is coming over, and we get until at least 6:30 or 7 together tomorrow. FINALLY! = )

I'm getting an A+ in Statistics right now! And I got an A+ on my last Euro essay (she must not have read it, it wasn't bad, but wasn't that good). So, I feel good about myself. I'm a stellar student, obviously.

Nothing much to report beyond that... There was this weird moment I had at the show on sunday, though...

We were standing to the right side of the stage and waiting for the next band to go up. This guy I had seen walking around before came up to us. He looked half-Hispanic, half-Black, his hair was shaved into a mohawk. It was colored faded pink and blue, almost looking as if it was leopard print. He was gorgeous, but also about 30-something easily. He walks up to us and, as all people seem to do, says, "Do you have a dollar so that I can kill my last brain cell?" He stood right in front of me, and I did what I usually did: I stared at his eyes looking at the size of his pupils (I can' help it, my mind immediatley goes: "hmm... what drugs are you on right now?"). He looked at me though and something about it really struck me. I don't know what, it's just so vivid in my head. He was really attractive, I don't know why but just the thoughts of him just keep on replaying in my head over and over... Ugh, I'm so weird...

Anyways! Tomorrow is friday, wooooooooohoooooo! Thank God! And my friends shall be over on saturday for the show, so far I should be bringing 4 people or so. It's gonna be a party! = )

Junkfood Junkie

I stepped over the puddle of spit on at the top of the landing. My Vans hit the floor as I trudged down the back stair case, squeaking on the maroon step coverings. It's my school. It really is my school. I rubbed the back of my neck where the hair is short and thought about how I fit in. My friends were all sitting outside the stairs and I wandered over to them. Anthony was sitting with his back to the wall. I sat next to his legs and rest my back on them. Alexis was sitting in front of me studying Latin. It's just a regular day in any regular high school. My friends were not high when I saw them after lunch, I was surprised. I need to get high. The idea floats into my head. I need to get high. My head starts to hurt and all I want to do is lie down. I role my head onto Anthony's knees and close my eyes. He agrees that he too wants a nap. I wander the halls everyday and feels eyes stare into my back and my head, my crappy clothes and dirty backpack. 

Being a junky in high school is like going through a mind fuck everyday. So, not only do you hate yourself because all teenagers do, all you can think about is drugs. I hate myself, I hate my teachers, I hate dumb assignments and tests, and all I want to do is get high. I remember I used to watch the clock ticking down the seconds. That sick feeling in my gut, screaming for the bell to ring. Sitting on top of the toilet lid in the dark bathroom. Prepping the shot, cooking and thinking nothing. All thoughts are about the drug, the arm, the needle. You stare at your arm and pull white from blue, it becomes a map towards a high. I miss those days. I miss the purpose I felt knowing that every action was leading up to a goal. Biting into leather and seeing the teethmarks appearing. White crust of saliva from the previous days, on a black belt. I remember shooting blood on the ceiling, dropping a blood filled spoon on the carpet. I remember crying when unable to hit a vein anywhere. That's what I remember most. I remember the sadness without a hit. I miss it, I mourn it, every time I get high now I think about iving. It's weird, for months and months I didn't even care, didn't think about the needle. Now it's all flooded back. I want to get high. I need to get high. I don't care about all the 90s I've gotten on tests, how happy I feel after that, I need drugs. I like drugs. Because I think too much without drugs, my mind is off in outerspace freaking out. My mind needs downers.

Anyway... today was okay. I have 3 tests tomorrow and homework, so I'm going to go study and work and not get high.

BTW, everytime I want to get high now and I can't I just eat. I'm "stuffing my feelings" with food, but if it gets my cravings to chill then I'm cool. Also, apparently the biggest druggy I know has been clean for 3 months, which is depressing. Now how can I make fun of her??? = P

Catch ya on the flipside! = )

Here Comes Your Man

Yay! The ban on my unhappiness was lifted yesterday. Sadly, I was asleep for a good part of it, but it was still a lovely sleep. I'm very happy about life, haha... guess why? I'm kinda worried, as I drove home today after dropping of my friend Nina (a different one than usual) my only thought was I should get high today. Nope... I should wait until saturday and I'm in the city. The city is always so good and it makes everything better... I could like cut my regular dose and just have a small high... I mean, I could cop sooner than I wanted to, this could work if I got high today... I'm not going to though. I have homework that I need to get done before I go into the city. Tanzen and I shall go on another adventure. Now this begs the question: should I be high around Tanzen? Is this a shitty thing to do (around everyone else I wouldn't give a shit, but she actually allows me to talk about anything)? I doesn't really matter, and I know what the answer for me is, no matter how much I don't want to admit it: it frankly doesn't bother me at all. The only other thing is that in the city, while high, you have to walk a lot. Which always is something I'd rather not to do, but whatever, it'll be fun. I just can't be high on the train because I will nod out against the window. I'm kind of excited as always. I love seeing Tanzen and it's always fun.

In other news:

My dad's birthday is tomorrow, so we're going out to dinner. I should probably make him a card or something. I didn't get him anything, he never asks. Anthony and I are also hanging out tomorrow, so I just have to hope that neither encroaches on the other's time. I want to do both, but that's easier said than done. I hope the food is good, that's what I'm mostly thinking about (how horrible... I know).

For my dad's birthday, I'm going to tell a story he told me:

My friend came over to my apartment, this was before you mother and I met. Everything was normal and we were sitting talking. He was sitting on my sofa; he had on a white long sleeved shirt. Slowly I began to notice a red spot on his inner arm slowly get bigger. It kept growing, I asked him, "Did you cut yourself?" He looked at me and didn't say anything. I then immediately told him, "Get out. Leave and don't come back until you're clean." You see, Lucy, I think heroin is the worst drug. I've never done it, or speed for that matter or crack.

Obviously, when I first heard this, my only thought was, "well, that's pleasant." I think it's kind of ironic now. He's always liked to tell me about the drugs he's sold, done, etc.. It used to be entertaining, but mostly I just don't want to hear about it.

Anyway, I've got homework to do and a guitar lesson to go to, so I'll check you guys on the filp side.

BTW, listen to the song "Here Comes Your Man" by The Pixies. I've been listening to it non-stop for like three days... haha. = )

What I See

My leg twitched inside it's shell. I stared at the screen. I've been thinking over a few weird moments, which I haven't said anything about:

1.) The homeless guy (possible junky) in Tompkins who walked past me. I looked at him and he stared directly into my eyes as he walked past me. I don't know what to think about it, I figure he was just sizing me up. Trying to figure out what I was and where I would fit in if I was going to be joining the unwashed masses of the park.

2.) "Yeah, it's all in with dealing with sobriety." My new thought is that Ashley can actually read my thoughts. We were talking in gym class about our weekends, I'm saying how I feel like shit, etc.. Nothing about the state of my drug use and suddenly she's bringing up my sobriety (which is going like shit, because it's going to be ended tomorrow or thursday). Cool kid and doesn't seem to care that I'm a needle using junky (then again, she's in a drug addict in a group home, probably doesn't feel she has room to preach).

3.) He stared at me like I had just insulted his mother. This guy at the Reagan Youth show kept giving me dirty looks the entire night. I was the only one with my mohawk up, and I wonder if it was that (sad but true). I figure if you're at a hardcore show, you should at least have the balls to say something to me instead of just shooting me dirty looks.

There are other things that I don't feel like bringing up... School's okay at the moment. I got two tests back: 90 and a 93, so two As is always good. Along with a few homeworks that got check pluses and "excellent"s (I said I was a good student, = ). I still haven't talked to my calculus teacher about missing his class. I hope that he doesn't yell at me, not that it would really bother me. I've realized that I don't give a crap about that class, I hate it, he makes it horrible. I enjoy math and he makes it unnecessarily hateful.

I'm wondering what's going on with my leg and if I can see about getting some medical dope for it. It won't be easy, just because of my arthritis (ironic isn't it). All parts of my right leg hurt, my knee is all swollen, sharp pains are running up and down my calf and foot. My doctor will probably just shrug it off as always, he's one of the leading doctor's in the world, so I have to trust him.

The TV flashes with "The Cleaner." Guess what? It's a show about drug interventionists and it focused tonight on a girl with the name of Sarah who had a problem with dope. It's not a reality show, so it's more fun. I really do enjoy it. There's this one guy Swenton, who reminds me of me. It makes it uncomfortable, because we're so similar.

Well, off to bed and another day of school... let's not say that I hate my life, just the things that I have to do in it.

- Lucy = )

BTW, two quotes: 

"I don't do drugs. I am drugs." - Dali

"Life's a bitch, but one day it's going to be my bitch." - My friend Nora

A photo of me!

This is a photo of me when I first got my mohawk done in June. The pink has basically faded out by now. Hopefully, it won't matter that this is up and no one I know will some how stumble upon this. Well, that's me! = )

A 17 year old day dream

My nose feels like it's running. I remember standing in my mother's room talking to her, my left side facing her. I felt something sliding down my face, it was heavy. She walked into the bathroom after an enternity and I ran into my room. I looked at myself and saw a white streak running down from my nose to the top of my lip. Surprise was my only emotion. How could she not have noticed? I really believe that sometimes they would try and ignore my behavior.

I remember standing in the kitchen spinning the greatest lie of my life. She was standing at the stove cooking and I was walking around her. My fingers were turning something, turning it. Rotating it. Rotating it. During a pause I looked at what my two fingers had been absentmindedly spinning. A gray needle cap was in my fingers. I quickly stuffed it in my pocket.

How do other people not see the signs? If I saw that I would say something. I wonder what is going on in other people's minds. I hate pills sometimes. I've been taking hydrocodone for months and, although I shouldn't be complaining, I'm going to. You can't shoot them, you can't snort them, so you have to swallow them. There is nothing about swallowing things that I like. With a shot there is preparation, there is the needle, things which I enjoy. Snorting something even has preparation, and then the act. There is no climax to swallowing a pill, it goes down and then you wait. I sit at my computer and flip through Gledwood's blog, then Melody's blog, I move on to Michelle's blog, or Kelly's blog. I continue to flip through these things until it hits me and then I will sit and write. Although I enjoy how it feels I long for the preparation, that feeling that your actions really matter and are leading up to a goal. I want a goal.

I was digging through my kit (not really digging, I kinda took everything out and then put what I didn't want back). I decided to take a Flexeril, hoping that it would help me sleep tonight. I decided, as you sometimes do, to rail it (which I do any chance that I get). Horrible idea. I snorted a little of the powder and my thought was, "Oh, damn, now my eyes are watering." It's funny, but I didn't cry like I would have in the past, my only reaction was kind of a lackluster annoyance. I was annoyed because it was a waste of a perfectly good pill, but beyond that I didn't really care very much. At the moment the opiates in my system and the Flexeril have formed a tag-team and are making me almost close my eyes. It really has kicked in pretty well, which is a good thing. I was thinking about my kit, I can itemize it right now, even though tonight was the first time I've looked in it since spring. It contains: two needles, an alcohol pad, a few peices of cotton, a Bic lighter with almost no fluid, an old fashioned lighter which needs more fluid, a mirror, a dollar bill, an extra needle cap, and an empty bag of weed with a stem in it. The other day when I was in Lauren's car she pulled out her "kit." Her using the term was kinda weird to me, and I thought, "That's not a kit. Who did you learn that label from?" I know it sounds weird, but my first thought was, "I call it a kit because that's what every junky in reading/life has called it, but you don't read/know any of these people. What the fuck?" I guess I've pulled out my kit in front of her, in fact, I've probably called it my kit. I changed the bag it was in after she recognized it one day. I've been thinking a lot today. I wrote this giant post, which I'm going to post before this one. I'm going to label each section of that one, because it really is massive. Haha I had too much time to think to night.