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

I'm dating a junkie...

My boyfriend has been doing heroin since I've been gone. He's shot 80 bags in the span of a month or so. He told me on Tuesday night... I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it. It's just like a very confusing thing emotionally. I'm really happy that he told me. I'm angry because he was saying all this nice shit while he was high, and that could've just been the drugs. I'm super pissed that he blew his money on dope and now may not be able to come to Paris in February. I'm also annoyed that I worried about him when he said he was getting sick and shit, thinking he was actually sick, but it was probably just dope. Mostly, I'm worried about him. Everyone I know is telling me to dump him. He quit on Saturday and I think he's doing a lot better today, didn't say he was feeling sick or anything.

This whole thing is just busting me. I don't know what to think, or how to feel. He told me he loved me last night. I believe it. I love him, too. It's just hard to put everything together, it's not nice little boxes. He also reminded me that he had warned me before I left, which I think is really not a good excuse. Yeah, he warned me, and I knew it was possible, I was really worried about it, but that doesn't mean I was mentally prepared for it to happen.

Anyway, if I get back in January, and he hasn't stayed clean, then I'm gonna dump his ass. I know that junkies only love junk, and I'm not gonna be the third wheel to heroin.

So, yeah, that's been my week. I also had midterms, think I did well, sorry for my suckage at posting shit.

Later!

Love you guys!

- Lucy B.

Because this is kind of a downer, I'm putting in some pics of me with my new pink hair... because, yeah. Don't want to bum you guys out.

22 days of legitimate sobriety...

So... I haven't blogged in forever because summer was insane lots of boy shit lots of drug shit lots and lots of shit.

But I'm now in Paris, and I'll get back to what went on over in a bit for those of you who don't know. SO I'M HERE.

I am fiending. I am fiending like I always do without drugs for a long period of time. Not that I would really know what a long period of time is, I did like 3 months sober two springs ago, but I started up again because I just can't seem to stay away. Umm... so yeah, I'm stuck sober. And I guess I'm staying sober because I know that I can't do drugs around Mike, and I like him enough that that matters to me. Not that we're together right now, I just know that if I started doing anything serious back in NYC he would either begin doing it with me, or he would cut me off from him completely. That's the upside and downside to have a cleaned up junky for a bf. He pisses me off occasionally because he talks to me like I'm some little puppy, as if I didn't know that if I (me, not the general I) started doing smack I would get hooked. I wanted to be like: oh, thanks, because obviously I don't know how my own fucking brain works, and hadn't figured that out for myself before.

I see the junkies on the metro here, one guy had a really fucked up arm, scabbed up with shadows running all over it. I just sat there feeling sick, my stomach has been fucked up this week. Everything in my digestive tract seems to get liquified, I've been getting the sweats too, and feeling dizzy... WHAT THE FUCK? I really don't know what I did to my body, and why it's sending me these signals, which I usually translate into: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SHOVE THAT INTO YOUR BLOODSTREAM MORON? But at the moment, I'm clean... but it's bad.

I'm not clean for the right reasons, and I think this is gonna end in a crash and burn when I end up back in NYC... because right now all I wanna do is get high. I wanna get high so bad. I have a sleeping pill I swiped from this guy, he didn't want it, so I figured he wouldn't notice it was gone and def wouldn't blame me... I looked up what it was, sadly I gotta swallow it, but ehh, I figure I'll save it for a day that I'm in need.

I keep getting bad drugs dreams. They were bad in August, still bad now... I just miss drugs. I want them so bad. I don't want to have to deal with the inside of my mind. I just want to delete it all. I WANT TO HIT THE FUCKING BUTTON AND ERASE MY STUPIDITY AND MY ISSUES AND MY WANTS. I wanna pretend that I'm not me for the next few fucking hours and put my mind on hold.

I just told Mike I had a blog, not like he's ever gonna see this shit. And he was like: oook, straange. And I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, 'cause he can be faulted for a lot more shit than me blogging.

Sometimes, I just want to do smack just to spite him, just a little, just for him thinking he knows everything there is to know about me and drugs. We kind of admitted to each other that we wish we could just get high together and lay around in his apartment together... which could be followed by another story where I passed on nodding out with him there, which kind of sounds like the nicest thing ever. I'd love to wake up and see him there. I had my wisdom teeth out, and shit, anyway, I didn't do it, figured that A) I wouldn't be able to fuck and B) don't need to do that in front of him, when he's working hard to stay clean.

I'm thinking about December, going to TX, I know my family has some things to my liking in the medicine cabinet, I stole some last year... but I felt REALLY guilty. Like, probably the most guilt and embarrassment and shame I have ever felt in my life. I can't even explain it.

The other night I was laying in bed, and I was thinking about being sober, and how I could be possibly facing a life with no more opiates. ever. Never ever gonna feel it again. And I cried. I'm not even gonna lie and pretend like I can handle things like that normally, because apparently I can't. I can't do drugs like a normal person. I can't fucking handle anything. I fucking cried.

But I didn't tell Mike. I feel bad. I feel just ashamed that I'm so fucking weak.

Whatever.

I'm weak.

I'm 18 and I wanna 'experiment' (yeah, right, we can pretend it's experimentation, I'm still young enough to call it that)...

BTW, I STILL fucking hate uppers. I did x. WHY? Because well, Mike was doing it, and his sister and her husband were doing it, and it was fun... kinda. But my brain was like YOU ARE AN IDIOT, AND I'M DITCHING THIS SHIT. I swear to god my brain wanted to jump out of my fucking skull...

Well, anyway, I'm alone in Paris with my classmates... I'm a cleaned up junky... am I junky? WHAT THE FUCK AM I EVEN? I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I just want the wanting to stop. I want to be normal. I hate it.

Fucked up in the big city,

- Lucy...

I've been killing my brain cells!

I keep killing my brain cells. I won't have any by the end of senior year. I'm just bashing them into alcohol and weed and pills and whatever I can get my hands on. It's kind of entertaining. I like drinking and smoking and chilling out. I've been to a few parties recently... no shows, sadly... and a whole lot of couches. I'm out drinking the best of 'em and smoking with the platinum level stoners. It's come to the point now where my brain at the moment is just perpetually on the fritz, causing me some speech and spelling dumbness. I'm also way way sick.

Fuck, I have no idea what to talk about.

I went to the city and posted/handed out some fliers to some hot crusties (4 of 'em, who seemed quite into my birthday show). Oh, how I love them. I have to find a prom date now, not that they would be it, but I just thought of it. I have to get a dress, too, and shoes. Fuck, I have to do homework at somepoint this week. At least one thing is for sure, I'M GOING TO NYU. Yup, you're favorite little-junky-stoner-dumbass-punk kid. I'm such a weirdo, so its kind of the perfect place.

Fuck, I'm waking up early tomorrow, hopefully I'll find something for my brain to make this next  posting worth while.

Love you all!

Lucy

Strange

It's not really how I feel. I feel like reality is biting me in the ass. I woke up at 7:30 this morning, feeling like a combination of booze, candy, and pills were about to jump out of stomach (kinda hoping they would, seeing as how I felt like I was dying). Yeah, I was a dumbass and now I feel really shitty and I don't plan on doing that ever again. Tanzen mixed the remainder of our vodka with cranberry juice and mandarin orange seltzer... IT WAS NASTY. Anyway, I drank it... enough of it, to get me close to drunk, but not (as Santina would describe my antics occasionally) "WASTED!!!". Santina, Tanzen, Ned, and I went out to dinner last night and then hung out around the Village. We went to my favorite record shop "Bleaker Street Records" and then we went to Ned's house. Walking down St. Mark's we saw some Crustys that I had kinda met at a show at ABC No Rio at the WWIX show there a month ago, or so. One of them talked to me, and was kind of cute. I don't have a problem with crustys, some people really don't like them, but they don't bother me. We're just different styles really, that's the major difference. I was saying that to them as we walked West and they walked South towards the LES. I forgot to tell you guys that I'm the leader of the GB Crew, which is my crew of friends. Basically, my goal with our crew is to A) have an awesome time, B) eliminate "Archey" from our shows, C) protect the teenagers (especially the youngsters, like 14/15 year olds) from assholes like "Archey" beating them up, and D) make ourselves kind of like staples of our shows. Tanzen says I'm a born leader, I don't know if I'd agree with that, but I like to imagine that it's true. Anyway, the GB Crew is going to keep making the NYC punk scene as awesome as we can.

I am just feeling shitty, my stomach hurts, my head doesn't feel great and I keep having nasty dreams about getting caught with drugs or doing drugs... or something.

Two nights ago I dreamed that my father was going to give me a drug test requiring a urine sample. But, my rents left the house? And suddenly I was alone, and there was this bong for some reason, but it was like a graduated cylinder at the same time (dual functioning bong and graduated cylinder... for the stoner in every scientist). Inside of it there were tablets or pills or something, for a reason I don't know. Anyway, it was very bizarre, and then I woke up and shit. Then last night, I had a dream about my father coming into my room. I was laying in my bed and he was talking to me. I was talking about how I was feeling really bad and my stomach really hurt. He then replied with something about how it was going to hurt one of us more (I can't remember which one of us) and that I was going to get a blood test tomorrow. I'm so glad that that was just a dream. Fucking, obnoxious shit. I don't quit worrying until I'm in the clear for testing negative for any drugs that I've used in urine or blood tests.

This nausea is shitty at the moment. I feel kind of like just laying in a ball and not moving, but I want to finish up my homework and then see Zack. He's gonna give me my Valentine's day gift today. = ) I think its either flowers or a teddy bear (I kinda asked for the bear, because I saw it when we went out to dinner, and it was adorable and cliched and shit... and I wanted it!) mostly because he refused to put it in his backpack and bring it into school. I played him a song... and gave him the CD "Lust for Life" by Iggy Pop (I wanted to give him the Buzzcocks album "Singles Going Steady"). I played him the song "Love You More" on guitar... and it was really awkward, but fun kind of. I get embarrassed easily when it comes to lovey-dovey shit. He thought it was "cute." Haha, I guess that's what I'm aiming for.... or something? I have no idea, I'm bad at being all cutesy and shit.

My one teacher yelled at me in the hallway for missing her class 4 or 5 times. Not, 7 or 8, not 10 or 12, 4 OR 5 TIMES. This woman is on crack. I think she thought I was cutting because my homeroom teacher thought I was on a field trip, so I don't know, maybe it came up that way. But I wasn't, I was legitimately sick. Only once did I cut her class, and that was a while ago. It was at least over a month ago. This woman is such a bitch, and I'm going to make her feel really shitty when I come in and tell her that it was for arthritis. Maybe that's a bitchy thing to do, but it's the best ammunition I got when it comes to teachers, because it's not a direct conflict, it just makes them feel bad. Honestly, making other people feel shitty is a lot more powerful than yelling at them, because that just makes them feel angry. I don't know. I was legitimately in a lot of pain, I have never missed school due to arthritis, besides last Thursday, because it really did hurt.

Anyway, I gotta get to doing homework.... because well... it's important? And I can't seem to be a slacker. It's just not in my nature, unless, I know it won't matter. So, I should go get on that. I also gotta make another GB Crew t-shirt, this will be the third. I gotta get some black pain to cover up part of this one because there's a design on it that she doesn't like.

Well, I'm off!

I hope y'all have a lovely Sunday and week until I'm back!

Love,

- Lucy = )

Strange

I had a drug dream that I have to share with everyone, because it was THAT cracked out. Okay, so I'll start from the beginning. My friend Nina and I are walking from our first block class on the third floor, down to our homeroom on the second floor like every day. However, we take a different stairwell, anyway, we stop on the landing in between the two floors and these three Hispanic kids I recognize are standing there. Anyway, they have like a bowl of what looks to be powdered sugar (I mean, I'm always getting high off of baking goods... anyway). So, the main guy asks if he we want some "name that made no sense when I heard it." It was my minds attempt at a nick-name for a drug gone wrong, to the point where it was legit just sounds. Nina's eyes are kind of bugged out and dilated and a bit crossed. She's very gungho about it. Instead of having viles or tinfoil or baggies... No, it's this thing that looks like a tiny-fish bowl (about the size of a marble) with an opening at the top. They are using spoons the size of like barbie spoons to put the powder in there. BTW, it's supposed to be speed (haha, my dreams... REALLY REALISTIC... not). Okay, so suddenly I wanna say he's given it to Nina, or maybe it's while he's filling the "vile" and he says, "do you want a taste?" Nina  says no, and I look at her and say, "Yes?" So, I snort a little (mind you, I'm standing in a fucking stairwell in my school, which is apparently empty because everyone else is in homeroom). At first, I'm like, wow, nothing. AND THEN IT HITS ME. Suddenly, I feel like I've been hit in the face by a fucking roller coaster and my mind is flying. Nina and I then walk downstairs (some how she is also high). Anyway, we walk down to our homeroom and try to turn off all of the lights in the classroom because it is bothering our eyes. There's this machine in the front with all of these keys and knobs and shit and lights, which I am just so unable to turn off it's not funny. Anyway, I keep trying, to no avail. Finally, I wake up. It's 4:30 in the afternoon and I've been asleep for an hour and I'm fucking sweating because of how high the heat is in my house and the fact that I'm under a blanket. I crawl out and feel so gross and go do homework.

This is how my beginning to going straight is. Great. Fucking, great. Obviously, that's just all I need. Anyway, I'm doing good. Besides when I was about ready to fucking just shove anything into my body to get high on wednesday, lots of shit went down and it was terrible, but I refrained. = ) I don't know, today my friend was being very triumphant when she said she hadn't smoked weed in 3 days? or maybe it was since Sunday? (Obviously, I was paying a lot of attention...) Anyway, I kind of felt bad after just brushing it off like it was nothing. I remember last year when I was so fucking proud to have made it like 2 and a half weeks, and I told my friends and they were just like, "whatever" and it kind of ruined it for me. I'm feeling good about it. I'll just drink because I don't have enough opportunities to drink. I do occasionally feel like I do drink just to get fucked up. Bad Lucy. Bad... I don't know, after Tanzen saying the greatest thing ever: "I really like hangovers because they bring you down to reality, and I like reality." How could I stop drinking? Haha, that's just like the greatest phrase of someone whose had a bit much to drink.

Tomorrows plan: finish off the stoli (I will not poor out fucking as much cranberry juice as last time...) and then go to the show. Enjoy Reagan Youth, then go to Tanzen's. Cut my hair at some point, watch SNL, hopefully eat some Life cereal, play guitar, etc. It'll be great. = )

I FINISHED APPLYING FOR COLLEGE! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! = ) Basically, the greatest fear of my life is off of my shoulders. Now it's just up to admissions people, and they can do what they want. Hopefully, I get into to like 8 out of 12 (I know, I applied to way too many schools). Anyway, around April I'll tell y'all the good news. = )

I don't know, I'm tired. 

But I have a question:

Okay, so, with certain guys, I would kiss them and I would literally get weak in the knees. That doesn't happen with Zack. There's no fire there (besides us being two teenagers who like each other). In some ways, I feel like he's just more of a safe choice, rather than like the perfect guy for me. I wish there were more sparks, but it's cool. He's the kind of guy who we're kind of like a great couple, and we'll just work it out. (We put down the deposits on our room after prom, we're sharing a suite with my two good friends and their dates. It's an open room though, with a pull out couch, so it's like two beds and a pull out couch... ugh. AWKWARD. haha).

Should I worry if there are no sparks? That's my question. = )

Well, I'm off to sleep. Good night guys, love you all.

= )

Lucy

Bang a Gong

BTW, I forgot to say that I learned something new. I'm sure that most of you are familiar with the song "Bang a Gong" by T. Rex. As my cousin and I were driving through Austin, it came on the radio. The radio host then went on to say that "bang a gong" actually means to shoot up heroin. SCANDALOUS! What kind of terrible people would do such terrible thing? And who would write a song about it? I mean, gosh, I'm just so horrified.

Do you think that's what normal people think? I want to know. BTW, I'll post a video of the song if you don't know it, it's one of my favorites. It makes more sense now, I didn't understand why people were supposed to bang a gong and then fuck. = )

NYE, the end of winter break, and the beginning of 2009.

NYE:

As the rest of my friend's partied and my mother got slousched, I sat with my 22-yr-old cousin and watching Discovery Health shows. Having popped the hydrocodone I found in their house, I was feeling alright. I had been popping them for the past few days, which meant that I was very much feeling quite sober. Anyway, it was kind of a bust. Jordan called me and we discussed this girl that we both hate. He hadn't realized how fucked up she was until that day. Yes, it was quite uneventful, but that's okay I guess.

End of winter break:

I want to cry. I don't want to go back to school. I hate school. Fuck school. Mostly I don't want to do homework. I haven't studied at all for my Latin test, and it's tomorrow. Fuck fuck fuck. I wish winter break lasted forever.

The beginning of 2009:

Well, I've spent 3 out of 4 days in 2009 on some kind of drug. I don't know what that will predict for the rest of my year. I smoked with Lauren last night, which was alright. I wish I had just stayed home kind of. Her sisters tarted to fight with Lauren and the rest of her family, she made Lauren cry, and her parents were ready to like beat her. She's such a bitch. Anyway, I'm glad that I'm home now. I was really happy to see my parents. Lauren's sister had percocet cause she had her wisdom teeth out. Sadly, when she left her parents gave her her pills to take with her. Darn. Well, whatever, it would have been great too because she's such a bitch.

An actual post:

I'm reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce for English class. It's a pretty good book. At first I was confused and put off by the style, it's very odd because it starts when he is a child and the style makes it very jumbled like a kid's brain. I'm also almost done with this book Narcisa by Jonathan Shaw. IT'S AMAZING. Honestly, if you enjoy any druggie books, then you will love it. Beyond that, which is the reason I picked it up, it's very odd and poetic (not oddly poetic, though that could apply as well). The main character/narrator is a biker living in Rio De Janeiro who is an ex-heroin addict from way back in the day. He falls in love with this beautiful young girl who becomes addicted to crack. Now the way I just wrote that sounds terrible right? Well, if you pick up the book you'll realize that, as bad as my description was, it was a great book. Also, it's got a lot of references to philosophy, which I dig and cool quotes. If you enjoyed Naked Lunch for those moments when the poetry of what he was saying came through, then you will enjoy Narcisa! = )

At the moment, I'm watching "Bad Girls," which is a show about an all women's prison in England. I first liked watching it because there were English accents involved (also because I found it last year after getting out of the hospital from the abscess and it was on during the day). Okay, I haven't watched in a while. There's this jail guard who is a "smack heid," so of course I'm rooting for him. I feel bad, but he's been able to avoid getting caught. Oh man, he's attractive.

Anthony was annoying me over break, and kept texting me for no reason that I could figure out. And then he was talking about hanging out and I said: Are you trying to get back together? And he said: Do you want to? Well, after me bascially running him around with random shit (due to the goading of my cousins' friend, who I've had a crush on since I was like 12, he's now 34... hey, a girl can dream = ) I told him: no. I told Zack because I felt like he should know. One thing that I was worried about was that Zack would get territorial. I kind of like that in a guy, but I think he would have had to have been having a bad day for him, when him being bipolar really shows (I have those days too, so it's okay). I don't think Zack thinks of Anthony as a real threat. The only thing that I worry about is that, me, without thinking, will end up doing something stupid with a cute punk boy. I have never cheated on anyone before, so it's not like something that's a pattern. I don't know, I say I love Zack, and I really think that I do. Then again, I love all of my friends, so, how could I not love him? I don't know, I'm 17, so it's whatever. Who can say that teenage love is a wholly bad thing?

I would love something to eat right now... Some warm soup and crackers, or reheated Chinese/Japanese food... or a nap. Yeah, a nap sounds lovely. I'm cold and ready to nod out... 

Well, guys, I would much rather read about your New Year's.

Love and luck in the 2009th year of our Lord (more like their Lord, but whatever, I like how it sounds),

Lucy

P.S. I will have a much more exciting post once I see Zack and go into the city on saturday. We're having a dinner at this diner I like with a lot of my friends, going to eat, then drink, and then run amok. = )

Holiday in the Sun

My nose is so stuffed. Fuck, I'm very very sick, which sucks. Bad bad cold. It's horrible.

I visited a college today, and I really enjoyed it. Definitely going to apply there, although it's filled to the brim with hipsters.

I had a big fight with Anthony, which wasn't fun. He just doesn't hang out with me, and then he goes "oh, I'm sorry, here... do you want a hug?" NO, I DON'T WANT A FUCKING HUG! I WANT A GODDAMN BOYFRIEND. So, yeah, that's basically what my brain was screaming, but instead I just kind of decided to be withdrawn. I went and talked to my fav teacher who was in his office. He and I agree that either Anthony needs to: 1. change, 2. break up with me, or 3. I need to break up with him. There can't be a middle a ground.

And, this whole thing with Anthony has kind of turned me into a bad girl... So, there's this guy... named J, who happens to be 21. He's so hot, and funny, and smart... and oooooh, he's amazing. So, I've been talking to him online and myspace (I met him at the show on saturday). Anyway, so we've been talking lots and yesterday he went away cause he fell asleep and I was like, "Oh... I see how it is." And today when I logged back in I saw that he said, "Oh, I feel asleep, I'm sorry, if you want to text me my number is:......" Hmm...? I know, are you thinking what I'm thinking too? Sarah has found a man. I know, everyone is like... "uhh... he's 21? that's fucked up..." All I can think is, "OH YEAH!" Sometimes he says things along the lines of: we can't date, you're too young, blah blah blah. But, then we converse hours, and he gives me his number... I don't know what to think, but I'm liking it. I know, I have a bf. But, a 21 v a 15... well, the 21 year old always wins. I know, I'm a playa', what can I say? hahaha...

He had to go take a shower, so he said, "I'm going to go, but just text me if i dont get back on and your bored." I don't know what to think, but he makes me all girly, and and... oh, I'm swooning. Haha, he's going to be at a show with me in the beginning of December, and I'm psyched about that. I was thinking about going to this show next saturday, instead of the one that's all ages, and J said, "Oh, I'm going. It's 18+, but I know the guy who put it together so I can get you in."

Oh, how I wish I J was here... he's so dreamy! = )

Drink, Drank, Punk

Okay, so I'm going to try and sort out what happened yesterday at the show in a way that makes sense. I'll do it in steps, it'll make it easier for me to right it out. (BTW, Jay is the lead singer of Endangered Feces, Jay C. is the lead singer of Aggressive Force... two different people, hookay?)

1.) Got on the subway, about a 20 minute trip on the F to Delancy. Right when I got into the station, Santina and Nicole were there. So we all figured out where it was.

2.) We hung out there, and talked to Jay L.. We all hung out there together, just waiting around for about an hour. I felt fucked up, it's actually the way I usually feel the day before I get really sick.

3.) After about an hour or so we all walked in, paid our $7.

4.) Charles said his poem, then I said mine... I'm gonna post the video of my poem at the end of this post.

5.) Endangered Feces went on. Jay C., Jordan, and I were basically the ones throwing all of the toilet paper at the crowd.

6.) After they were done I was talking to Jay and a few others, he was drinking out of a Powerade bottle which I knew had some kind of alcohol in it. He hands it to me and tells me to taste the "newest flavor of Powerade."

7.) When he finally realized how much I've had he became very concerned, and a bit surprised. He basically dragged me to the deli across the street to buy me water and pretzels. And then it HIT ME!

8.) My first thought was "OH MY GOD! What the fuck have I done???" It's slowly getting worse and worse and worse. And suddenly I'm so fucked.

9.) Basically I sat down on the floor inside and ate the pretzels and drank the water. Listening to Kissy Kamikaze. A little bit into that I went into the back and sat out on the chairs with Daniella (who Jay basically entrusted me to), her new Irish bf (directly off the boat, apparently), Santina, Nicole, Tanzen, and Jay stayed there for a bit too.

10.) Jordan and Jay C. are out there with their girls, and we're all talking. Everyone is very nice and basically telling me to not worry about it, that everyone does this, and not to worry about it.

11.) Tanzen leaves at some point, and I finally make it back inside. (By this time I think I had drank the first bottle of water, and now I keep peeing and peeing and peeing) The Ray Gradys were playing and were covering Zero Boys, which was amazing. I got up there and was singing with Jay and Jordan on the mic. Haha, the three drunks all on the microphone, so not surprising. I went to sitting on the crates in the back, because my steadiness was uhh... not so good. Jordan and Jay C. are skanking, and Jordan grabs me by my shirt and pulls me off the crate. Right as that happened Jay came over to hit him and actually ended up hitting me in the face, so they quickly grabbed me and pulled me onto my feet and shoved me onto the crate again. Santina let me rest my head on her shoulder and they all made sure everything was cool. It was kinda funny, it didn't bother me at all. My face got numb, and then kinda hurt, but that's fine.

12.) Santina, Nicole, Jay, Daniella, me, and the two twins (who I have now met, they're really cool guys, really nice) were standing on the street (besides me, I'm sitting on the ground resting my head against Jay's knee, who is just kind of petting my head, I think he felt kinda bad).

13.) Santina and Nicole leave and Jay and Charles are now watching me. The guy from the Ray Gradys held the door for me as I pissed because the door wouldn't close to the bathroom. Jay and I walk to get his car, and then we drive back to the show. Jay and Charles basically sit me in the car and I'm feeling a bit more sober. After about 15 minutes and me listening to them talk while they load up the car we're off. We drive up to this bagel place on like 4th ave 20 something. Jay buys me a big cup of coffee, I pee again. By this time my piss is legitimately clear. We're all talking as Jay drives me to Penn, Charles volunteers to make sure I'm fine getting to the terminal. He drops me off, I say good bye to Jay, and thank him and apologize. Charles walks me in and I give him a hug goodbye and he walks off. I go to the bathroom and pee again (holy shit, I probably peed like 8 times in about 3 hours, it was ridiculous).

14.) The train ride wasn't too bad because I spent the entirety of it on the phone talking to Lauren and Nina and Santina on the phone. It was actually quite entertaining.

15.) I get home around 10:30 and pee again. I feel like shit, probably because I haven't eaten anything besides one bag of pretzels since 11 in the morning. I hang with my rents for a bit, I tell them that I think I have a stomach virus.

It was actually a really entertaining night, I had a really good time. It's kind of funny, but I really enjoyed myself. I've never been drunk before, and definitely never had whiskey (Jameson... apparently Endangered Feces really likes it, they call it the nectar of the Emerald Isle). Didn't puke, which I'm impressed with. My guess is that I had approximately 4 or 5 shots, I don't know how much Jameson gets a regular person drunk.

Here are my questions: How much Jameson gets a regular person drunk? How much Jameson makes a regular person puke?

I couldn't get to sleep last night because I was shaking so bad. I realized it was because I was really cold, so I put on a sweatshirt and socks, which made it almost completely stop. I didn't fall asleep until about 1 a.m. or so, and I woke up at 7 a.m.... What the fuck? I'm still feeling a bit off, but eating really really helped me. I need to eat some more. Next time Jay offers me something, I will not be drinking that much and I'm gonna ask him what it is.

Haha, wow, how was your saturday? = )

Here's the video as promised: (BTW, the guy standing behind me laughing, with half a head of hair is Jay C.)

Lady be good, do what you should, you know it will be alright

I can't sleep. I'm really bent out of shape. It's due to my friends. What I've come to realize is that, even if I'm not that close to people, seeing other people really fucked up on drugs or drink really bothers me. I saw Ashley the other day, high off of her ass (my guess is the first time in 4 months), smiling at me, telling me how "life is so good right now." I couldn't help but smile and say, "how many hours until life sucks again?" Her eyes were watery and blood shot, but beyond that she seemed pretty normal (ironically). But, this is really about Nina and Lauren. Nina and Lauren want to get drunk on Halloween and go trick-or-treating. I don't like drinking - in fact I kind of hate it. I have no desire to drink whatsoever, especially not coming home drunk. I hate how both of them just want to deplete their brain cells until there's nothing left. I know, I sound hypocritical. I am, but I can't help it. Weed and beer are just such a waste of a brain. All that it causes is for them to feel worse about themselves in the long run. I'm not saying that dope is far above other drugs, I just know that when I get really high on weed I hate myself, but when I'm off on the nod I don't really give a fuck. Watching someone get dependent on drugs is so much worse than you yourself getting addicted. I hate it. I feel so powerless and I just wish I could make all their pain go away, ya know? That's the thing, I can handle myself and the shit that I cause for myself, but other people, I can't deal with my friends being messed up.

I am also feeling particularly awkward and moronic lately. I can't seem to shake this feeling that I am some kind of joke. I don't know, I'm PMSing, which is just making everything a debacle. At the moment, I feel utterly hopeless and depressed and like a shit head. Come tomorrow I may feel just like Jesus' son. I think it's cause of this video of me from the show on saturday, I was listening to WWIX and so I didn't care how dumb i may have looked. But, God, did I look like a moron. That's just going to bother me now. At punk shows, I generally don't care, and now I'm going to think about it.

I just wish I could talk to people about this bull shit, and they could make it all better and just explain it all away. I wish I could tell my mother, she always makes me feel better when I'm freaking out. I can't stand all of this. I don't want to do anything, I just don't see the point, I feel suicidal, but it's just passing. That's the thing, I'm so wound up in my mind that emotions just become mental explanations. That's the only way I've ever been able to deal with shit, but turning it into explanations - it's also the only way I can have any self-control. Fuck, I just need to go back to sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day. It just has to be.

All This and More

Sam just called me to ask about a graph, wanting to know about how far apart the dates have to be put. Any other saturday and I would have been groggy, wondering why on God's green fucking earth are people calling me before 12. But, this morning I woke up around 10:30, mostly because my back feels like someone has been squeezing it in a vice and I wanted to read "Naked Lunch." When I bought Naked Lunch I had some deluded thought that it wasn't really focusing on dope, but it's just as H filled as Junky. I think I like it more than Junky, it's just more interesting. I should be doing stuff, I should be up and showering, or doing homework, or texting Anthony. ANTHONY!!! Just the boy's name makes me smile. Ugh, I wish he was here. 

We got to hang out all friday because his radio show was from 5 to 10. The Coffeehouse at our school was also that night (people can come in and play a song, or read poetry, etc..), which I was playing with my friend Nina (not the one I have a pictured, this is a totally different Nina). Well, our friend Felipe was really awesome and covered for Anthony while he came out and watched me play. He actually wanted to come see me play, I was really suprised when he said that. I assumed he was just doing it because I wanted him to. And afterwards when we were back in the both he told me I did really well and he let me wear his drug rug.... Now I'm all giddy and smiling. 

I've been utterly sober since Tuesday, no weed, no hydros, nothing. I don't know how I feel about it, I'll see how long I can keep this up. Ironically, I think that Lauren is going to be buying weed off me very very soon. Last night we were all hanging out and she asked me if I had any, and (as it so happens once in a blue moon) I do. She wanted it right then, but it was back at my house, I told her she could just come over today and get it, but apparently that's not here modus operandi (or an option she even wants to go down). She, like me, has a similar problem, all of our friends have the #s and now the dealers. Maya calls Lauren. Maya is your friendly neighborhood lesbian and once-upon-a-time high school drug dealer. She now has no car and no dealers to buy from (word is that she owes this guy mucho dinero), so she has to come to Lauren or Nina to help her. Honestly, I avoid Maya at all costs, she's the biggest creeper I know. The only thing Maya is good for is entertainment purposes (usually what she says is really entertaining after the fact). I should feel some kind of guilt, but none of us do. Our collective mental thought is: If you do something dumb or drug-related, you shouldn't be telling everyone because no one will take your seriously. Whenever I did call her, besides having a mini panic attack because of how uncomfortable she makes, it always A) short as I could make it, and B) spent listening to make sure she wasn't high so that she would remember it... Well, back to the story, Maya wants a dime or some #s, and Lauren's like, "Sorry, but you should call Nina."

Lauren and Nina have had a friend (more like lover's) quarrel, which is annoying because I have to hear both of them complain about the other. Sam and I are just sitting there trying to ignore her complaining, which we've been attempting to do all night (not very well, though). When, after all of us going to her house (we all drove our own cars, it was so ridiculous, Lauren totally wanted to race us, I kept up most of the time, but Sam lagged behind), we actually  addressed what she was saying. Fuck, I feel bad for both parties, Sam and I tried to calm Lauren down, but there really is no way to do that. My thought it that Nina is pissed because she is frustrated about not being able to make Lauren better, even though she knows she can't she wants to. Well, not much I can do about it.

Nina is getting shrooms (did I already talk about this, I feel like I have). Well, anyway, she's getting it from this kid Rusty, whose now in college. He was actually in my Latin class last year, funny kid, probably a genius, and now possibly an alcoholic (that's the word that's going around). She texted him during stat to see what was going on. No, word yet if this is actually going to happen, but whatever, what happens happens.

I have a lot of homework, which I should probably be doing. But, I'll get around to it eventually... maybe tomorrow at lunch. Did I tell you that I need a fucking hair cut??? The hair on the sides of my head is ranging from 1.5 to 2 inches, which is waaaaaaay too long. It's driving me nuts, I'm going to get a friend of mine to buzz if off sometime soon (like within the week). Yeah, so that's all folks!! = )

Check ya later!

Clash City Rockers

We walked through the village, it looked somewhat like the park on East 15th St and 3rd Ave. My parents and I... going to cop dope? In front of a building there was the smell of lighter fluid and metal burning, so we walked in to this apartment. I only had enough money for one bag, but my parents bought 3 (why they were there I don't really know). The room was dark and caste in a green light, small, dark, and green. I didn't have any works, so the girl who was there took this needle she had and gave it to me. It was filled with what looked like fat I've seen on plastic surgery shows, after they've sucked it out of some rich person's stomach. I got into the bathroom - it was fluorescent lit like at McDonald's - and flushed the think pink-white paste out of the needle. I looked down at my left arm - it had not scar in my dream - and it was so milky white. I did what I used to always do - I checked to make sure I could hit a vein before cooking up. (My veins are either A) tiny, B) hidden, C) covered in scar tissue from surgery, or D) rolling - my veins suck so much) I hit it right on the first try, without even pulling back I saw blood flow into the tip and fill it dark red. (I used to try and hit it first so that I wouldn't have cooked up and be unable to use the solution, which had on more than one occasion made me cry - fuck, haha, ridiculous but true)

Then I woke up.

I hate dreams like that, so real that you can taste the food and feel the drugs. That happiness you feel as you receive the drugs, a pleasure that you wake wanting more of. Most of my drug dreams revolve around me receiving drugs from other people - some of the time as gifts, once they were falling from the sky (I kid you not). Today during lunch Nina took me out to her car, she was giving me the weed. She didn't have a bag for me, so she rolled up the nugget in a piece of paper, which I then shoved into this plastic shopping bag in my car. The entire bag smelled of weed when I got back to my car 3 hours later. The stuff is so good, it's kind of ridiculous. It looked kind of small, she told me that it looked small but that it was just packed tightly. I don't think Nina would rip me off, though, I trust my friend's loyalty in matters like this just as much as my own... which is occasionally not very much. But, that whole thing has little do with friendship and more to do with drugs and economics. If your friend rips you off you can't take it so personally, I mean, it's fucked up, but not surprising. Your friend and your drug dealer are two different people, so you can't expect the business woman and the friend to act the same way. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Today was okay, I took a quiz in English that I didn't even know we had, I think I at least got a B. I'm more worried about my stat test, though I'm sure that I at least got a B. Nothing much happened today. I talked to Ashley, she says that I can't come over until her mother approves the list. That will be interesting, I really am interested in seeing this group home - I can't help being curious. I had a guitar lesson, which was okay, not amazing, but not horrible. I have dinner tonight for Rosh Hashanah with my parents and my grandmother (happy new year, everyone!) That will be good - well at least good food.

I got out of the car from guitar and I vomitied in my mouth, it was weird because I so wasn't expecting it and my next thought was, "just don't completely vomit." I wonder what it's all about, but I'm sure it's nothing serious.

Anyway, I'm going to lie down. Happy New Year! = )

I'm Waiting for the Man

Saturday Morning:

I'm going into the city in two and a half hours. At the moment, I'm all dumb and in love. Haha, oh my god, that's all I can say. I'm feeling very girly right now, so you'll have to excuse all the dumb shit I may say today... I just can't help it! = )

So, yeah, Anthony and I... omg, I really do think I love him. I know, I know, I sound like every 17 year old, okay, but here's the thing: I've made sure never to say that unless I really believed it, and so I never have. I know that lots of teenagers say it to whoever they date, but not I. He is amazing. We couldn't hang out yesterday and so as I'm driving by where he's standing a block away from the school I pull over. His mother calls, which basically results on him shouting into his phone. I really thought he was going to smash it, he was so pissed off at her. Anyway, she was being a bitch and not letting him come over to my house. So, I made the decision to go with him to the radio station. We hung out with everyone, which involved fixing a mixing board for a good two hours and just generally hanging around. Then, around 4:45 he realized that he had his radio show that day. What the fuck? I thought it was starting next week. Hold on, let me call my parents. "Anthony, this is really good then we can hang until 7." So, I became his radio assistant, he allowed me to pick some songs and he picked some of my favorites:

-The Passenger - Iggy

-Cretin Hop - Ramones

-Beat My Guest - Adam and the Ants

-Drive My Car - The Beatles

-Search and Destroy - Iggy

and more. He looked so in control, flicking the switches shuffling through PSAs and Promos that he had to do. Whenever he had to go on air he would get all nervous and stutter a little, but it was cute. And then when we finally had to leave, he kissed me and then gave me a hug. Haha, omg, I really do love him. Holy FUCK!!! Haha, I wish he was here right now. That's the only thing I can think when he's not around. I was thinking about it in the studio how I would get clean for Anthony, I really would. I've been really dumb and been listening to my favorite dumb love songs. Yes, I am a girl, I am 17, and yes I do have a playlist of all of my favorite dumb love songs. Oh, Anthony... Damn, I wish he was here. = )

The city will be fun today. We're going to go book shopping, one for my dad, a few for me. Tanzen wants to buy a bong (after 3 months of planning on it). So, it shall be an interesting day. My house is freezing at the moment, so I hope outside isn't as cold. My dad turned off the AC (Iuppiter!), but no heat so I woke up and was like Oh my god... why is it so cold? This feels like December. Even with the heat on our house is freezing in December and January. I figure I'll wear my Misfits shirt, my a pair of jeans, my docs, probably my main jacket

Sunday night:

The story of the rest of saturday is pretty long, but I'll try to sum it up as best I can. Tanzen and I met at Union Square. We went to Strand and bought some books about junkies (I had a list of books that I wanted). Afterwards we went to lunch at this place called Moonstruck on 3rd Ave and East 5th Street. Her friend Sean meets us, who wants to go cop weed uptown. He can't remember the name he gave the dealers on his phone, so as we eat he sorts that out. The guy he thinks is the best is not picking up and not returning the texts he keeps sending from Tanzen's phone. Finally he decides we'll just go meet the other guy, who apparently skimps on the amounts. As we're walking towards the subway the guy he really calls Sean. He almost began to dance in the middle of the sidewalk as he answered the phone. We hopped on the subway (I loudly protested going to get the wed, stoners in general, and me having to pay money for the subway). They both coughed up money for me riding the subway (if you're going to drag me to cop drugs than you're going to pay for the subway ride... haha). We get into Grand Central Station and we walk out of the terminal. After Tanzen goes to pee and we find a way out, we begin to walk over. My boot begins to hurt my leg, it's pinching the tendon on the side of my leg. So, we continue on, I stop every few steps and rub my leg or express the pain that feels like a hot knife being shoved into my leg. When we reach where we're supposed to meet the guy we don't see him. He calls Sean and tells him to meet him up a street. I sit on the scaffolding that happens to be there. This fat half-Japanese, half-white kid walks up. He has black ringlets sprouting under a backwards baseball cap. His body is covered in a black sweatshirt with a dragon embroidered on the back. Two goons, who happen to be his friends, just walk up the block past us. I had a feeling that they were most likely muscle, just the way they appeared. Tanzen and I stand on the corner as Sean and Tommy (the dealer) walk down the street and exchange green for green. Sean meets up with us and Tommy continues strolling down the street, his friends have walked up the street past where we had all stopped. As quickly as the deal had gone down, we now walked down the streets at a clip. After some persuasion I decided to stay the night in Brooklyn with Tanzen and get "smoked up." Tommy keeps calling Sean, so Sean refuses to pick up because he isn't really excited about the news. After we get about 5 blocks away he finally picks up one of the calls. Apparently he owes another $10 or some of the weed. Sean isn't sure whether to split or meet up with Tommy. Our vote decision is: RUN! Haha, we begin to jog pretty quickly down the streets towards Grand Central, which of course is where the expect us. Tommy is right in front of us suddenly and him and Sean walk down the street. Tanzen and I stand around the corner in front of a glass storefront. We can't see what's going on, but our first instinct is to see if Sean is getting beat up. Suddenly, Tanzen and I scurry behind them and sit beside them as Tommy takes some of the weed. Sean and Tommy slap hands in a "everything is cool" kinda way and we walk off.

Sean needs to go weigh out the weed to divide it up equally between him and Tanzen, so we have to go to his house. Instead of all of us getting out of the subway and having to pay again, Tanzen and I sit on a bench in the subway and I read to her from a book called "Beam Me Up, Scotty." It's about a crackhead, and it's amazing! I love this book, I was worried I would hate it because it was about crack, but it's actually really good. It's also about him getting sober. It's set on the LES, so I know everywhere that they keep talking about. I like that because most books are about places I've never been to, but this is somewhere I have my own thoughts about everywhere he's running. Anyway, after a half an hour Sean reappears and we get back on the subway and walk to Tanzen's house. Sean takes a cigarella he has, he takes the brown paper from the outside and uses it to rap up this giant blunt. As we sit in Tanzen's house, Tanzen and I have to breathe on the paper to keep it moist. 

Finally, we get out of there and walk over to Prospect Park to meet up with Sean's friend Jacob. After meeting up with Jacob, one of those moments where you shake hands are told each other's names and think to yourself "this information will never help me, but I'll take it anyway." We wait for another 3o minutes until we can go to his other friend Nahim's house, which is right down the street. We have to sneak down behind his house through this alleyway and into the back of his basement. After about 5 minutes of us just waiting there Nahim appears. We smoke it all and the 3 foot by 7 foot room is filled with white smoke. This is supposed to be purple kush, which should be impressive or something but does nothing to me (I think someone got ripped off... haha). Sean decides he needs a piss, so Nahim leads him out of the tiny room into the unlight and stuff filled basement to the bathroom. Suddenly there is a lot of loud banging and Nahim yells out to us to get out here. Sean is unable to stand, he is hitting everything. My first thought, being a lovely young junkie, is Fuck this, I barely know the guy, Tanzen and I can leave him here for Nahim to deal with it. That's what I honestly thought. Nahim is trying to shepard him out of the basement but he is almost unable to stand. Suddenly you see him stiffen up and fall head first into a pile of tools. The most amazing face plant I have ever seen. He looked dead. After we clamber out and drag Sean out of the basement, Tanzen took his right side and I took his left and we brought him back on to the sidewalk. We had to keep telling him to walk and he kept complaining that he wanted to sit down. Finally, we sat him down on a bus terminal bench and we all began to stare at this giant poster of Janice Dickinson's show, it was extremely puzzling. I analyzed it for what seemed like 10 minutes. Sean was now able to walk, so we brought him to where we usually met up with him and almost ran back to Tanzen's house for dinner.

Dinner was hard because I was high and I had to make sure to act normal and look people in the eye and say normal things. I thought I was going to die. Anyway, after that we played cards until Saturday night came on, and after 10 minute I began to nod out (that's what it felt like, haha, it was nutty, I smoked way too much) and so Tanzen and I headed up to bed at 12.

The next morning we talked about shit, read some more of the book, discussed the night before. She is very very disapproving of my continued desire for an H dealer in the city (hah, we're calling it Mission H). I guess that's not surprising. On the ride home I listened to the Velvet Underground until I finally was home. I worked on the common app and did homework.

A few questions still remain:

1. What else was Sean on, which caused him to literally just fall to the ground? I have never seen someone that fucked up on weed before. To me it looked like someone who had taken too much smack. He wasn't in the bathroom for him to have done that though. I don't know what it was, but it was fucking obnoxious as shit.

2. Will I ever actually get around to seriously trying to score? I've been very distracted about that goal, it's sad, but a serious goal. Hey, don't judge me people! (haha)

3. How will the visit's to Ashley's group home go? She is a level one now, so she can have guests (I will be her first, how cool is that?). I have to fill out the form tomorrow.

4. I'm seriously considering getting clean... Am I serious? Haha, for that answer and many others, tune in to tomorrow when Lucy describes the lingering problems and annoyances of high school! See ya soon folks!

Sick

I was so sick for four days. I honestly wondered if my innards were eating themselves. Let's just say that everything in my digestive track just kinda became concrete. Today, I thought I was going to die, I took some laxatives last night so that I felt better for tomorrow's show. Well, after second block they took effect and I didn't want to use a school bathroom, so I decided to wait until I got home. Anthony and I couldn't hang today because he had to go practice ice skating for hockey. We hung out in the radio station until he left around 5, I worry that I embarrass him. He hugged me good bye and his friend Matt said, "Aww, that's cute." I felt bad, but I really did want a hug. Let's just say that I got home, I thought I was going to die on the way home, but now I'm feeling much better.

The biggest news of today is my new pal, who I don't remember the name of. Anyway, here's the story: I met her a few days ago at gym class. She said she moved here with her mother. Today she opened up to me, realizing that I was of the druggy breed, and she's staying at a group home for the next 6 months. She's been sober for 3 months (I have a feeling that won't be kept up after she gets out), and she is also on probation. I told her about the scar on my arm, I told her to guess what the infection was from, her guesses were: cutting (how 8th grade) and self tattooing (haha, I have one on my left ankle actually, a blue star made out of sharpie and a safety pin, at 15 I was kinda dumb). I told her she was wrong, obviously, and she said, "well then my only other guess is heroin" (apparently, needle use and heroin is interchangeable, what the fuck?). I said, "Not exactly, but the same kinda deal. Never lick your needles." I don't know if she was cool with it or not, I think she was kinda taken-aback (hey, I'm not the one in the group home). But, she's cool, I think her name might be like Nicole or something. I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine. She's conning her psychiatrist into giving her adderal or something else to control her "ADHD" (a.k.a. her junky lies). I'm kinda impressed that she could get it that easily, her lying is in fact fairly impressive. I've done like 1.5 months sober before and that was too long for me. I'm really impressed by her 3 months, though I feel like probation and a group home makes that a more appealing option. So, hopefully, I'll have more to say about her when we have gym again on tuesday. 

Tomorrow is the Reagan Youth show, which is exciting. I'm quite psyched actually, I'm thinking about waking up early on sunday morning and maybe Tanzen and I wondering around the village for a while. I think I'm going to see about getting her to help me out. I know it's kinda bad, but if you're going to offer me a helping hand and not expect me to take it then don't ask. I feel so tired, and now I'm high, I guess it's a combination. I've been feeling very weird lately. That feeling like the world is rushing at you, literally, like everything is moving too fast for your brain to comprehend. It used to be bad and would hit me in school walking through crowded halls. It's as if someone has put a towel over your brain and is suffocating it. I wonder if I should really ask Tanzen to help me out, would it be bad? would it make me a bad friend? I know that that's really about how I feel and my concerns are really only about how it reflects on me. I guess I just want anything I can get my hands and if someone wants to help me, then that's their business. I feel so confused about how to handle things, I know that the world is going to fuck Tanzen up, it's only a matter of time, but will I be part of that. I know it's a dog eat dog world and someone is going to take advantage of her, I just don't want to be the first one who is using her kindness for my own good. I think partially she really wants me to say yes so that she can have some. It's so confusing (if you couldn't tell by all of those nonsensical sentences). Slowly, my biggest dillemma is whether I am a friend first and a junky second, or a junky first and a friend second when it comes to Tanzen. I'm almost always a friend, but I wonder if these actions will really change it.

Well, I think I'm going to go read and take my mind off of this decision. I'll post pics from the show. I hope everyone has a great weekend. My first full week of school is over! = )

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.

Ca plan pour moi

I knew that if I said it to her she wouldn't come over. Can we just stay in the house? I'm tired. "Okay, I'll be there in a bit." She never showed up. She texts me a little later, "I'm not going to make it. Thanks for inviting me man." It freaked me out. She earlier told me that she was "in a bad way." Whenever I say "I'm in a bad way" then it's usually drug shit. It means that I'm fucked up, really really fucked up. Like when I took that lyrica shit, I was in a bad way. To me a bad way is almost always physical. I worry about Lauren. She's very very very depressed, her parents are alcoholics, and she's become a giant stoner. She said she was in her car a 2 minute drive from her house. I hope she's okay. I hope she's not really in trouble. I texted her later that she was freaking me out because she is, but she never responded. I hate dealing with this shit. Now I'm worried about her. I really wonder what's going on, probably her rents were fighting so she split. She does that pretty often, usually she calls Nina, so I was surprised when she called me. I'm not her "go to person" like Nina is, so Nina probably went over and got her. My thought is that A) she split because her parents were fighting, or B) she's really thinking about offing herself... I'm going to guess A just because it happens really often. I wonder if it's somehow related to coping some drug. Fuck, well, I can't do anything about it now, so I'll just wait to find out.

I think that I'm definitely going to this exchange in the les when I go to the city next weekend. It's for youth, so you have to be under 24 to go to the place. It's for homeless youth and youth involved with the streets (haha, well, I walk on the streets.... apparently drug use is related to being involved with the streets, so I guess I'm included, or something like that). I'm kinda wondering what it will be like, but I feel like they'll probably be nice to me and not treat me like shit if I go there. The idea of exchanges kinda freaks me out in general, I don't know, I guess I'm worried about A) cops, B) them giving me a hard time (I guess that makes me no sense, the whole point is to help, right? though a whole lotta people say they want to help but they just try to fuck you over), or C) them turning me away or making me do something I don't want to do (I don't know, they make me suspicious). Tanzen should be thinking "what the fuck" when we go there, but I have a feeling she'll think this is really cool (or some other shit). I guess I'm exploiting that factor in Tanzen because she listens to me talk about all my junky shit and will still be friends with me.  Haha, something about it evokes that whole sense in me that enjoys a good adventure, especially ones that include my favorite things. Also, nothing really bad could happen, I mean, sure, I could get turned away, but beyond that I think it will be okay.

Tomorrow I have to go to my doctor's house in uptown, which won't be fun. I have to wake up at 6:45, which sucks so much. I woke up at 12 today and I'm still tired. I have to do a lot of work for school, it starts on thursday (which is a horrible thought). I have 50 pages left to read, a book of poetry to read too, an essay to write, answer 2 questions, rearrange 18 questions (my friends and I are sharing answers), write an outline, and highlight a chapter. So much work, so little time. I'm going to try to do some of the bullshit on the train tomorrow. I can easily do all of it, I've just been super lazy. It's half I don't give a shit and half I would rather be high, and together they make me not want to do anything. I spend a good part of the time this week thinking about getting high, then getting high, then thinking about how dumb that was, then getting high again, haha, then hanging out with people at which point we would get high. I think I've spent every night for the past week high, and I've changed it up, which is surprising (if it was all the same thing it wouldn't be so surprising). Maybe I need to relax and focus on something else for a while. = )

I just found out Lauren is fine, guess who was there? Nina. Nina came and got her. As I said, I could bet my life on it, Nina is always there to pick Lauren up when she's "in a bad way." I'm so not surprised that I'm almost annoyed. I'm kinda glad that Nina cleans up all of those messes because Lauren is such a handful (haha, she's a mucky pup). I would deal with it if she wanted my help, but she never does. The last time I had to deal with this was in May or June and she was high. We're all stoned out of our heads and she's talking about killing herself to Nina and I. Nina takes the lead and I'm just standing there not sure what the fuck I'm supposed to do. It's just always been really stressful. I love the kid, but it's hard to talk someone down, never one of the things I've enjoyed. 

Anyway, I should be heading off to bed. This post has been pretty boring for everyone else I'm sure, so I'll end it now...

BTW, I think "ca plan pour moi" roughly translates into "it's gliding for me" which really means "being high works for me." = ) 

It's a good song, it's in French, which kinda sucks, but that's okay. It's by Plastic Bertrand.

Lyrica + Peeps = how to fuck yourself up

Whoever thought that Lyrica is a fun drug, is seriously on drugs (haha, obviously). It took about 4 hours to kick in, but when it kicked in, it kicked in. The room was rotating, and I had to stumble down the hallway to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, which wasn't very pleasant. I decided that, if I'm going to feel this fucked up, I might as well have a soundtrack to it. I listened to the Germs for a bit, which was kinda nice (I'm not such a giant fan of the Germs, but I like some of their stuff). When I finally turned out the light and went to bed, I was hit with really bad night-blindness (as if there's a really nice version). So, now everything is dark, and I'm really dizzy, and when I turn over the room feels like it's spinning around me: it was a bit unpleasant. I attempted to calm myself down and remind myself that soon I would be asleep and it would be fine. I passed out and woke up at 10:26 with my phone vibrating violently. Alexis had texted me to tell me that she was sorry that she had just seen my text about the Rocky Horror Picture Show (none of my friend's were allowed to go, so I figured that we would all just see it next month). I was still really fucked up, so I decided to go back to sleep. When I finally woke up it was 12:56, I didn't feel like moving. The room was still twisting beneath me. After a few minutes of debating, I quietly got out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were like giant black holes, so I knew that I couldn't go and see my rents (they love to threaten me with drug tests every chance they get, so I try to avoid them when I'm obviously fucked up). I laid back down and waited for a half an hour, when I finally got up and stumbled back to the mirror. Although I still felt like shit, my eyes were now back to normal (I don't know what miracle occurred there). I've felt pretty fucked up all day, but I guess that's what I get for being a dumbass. I just finished cleaning my bathroom and I'm washing my sheets, but I think I'm going to take a nap. Haha, I'm still so tired, it's not even funny. The way it feels at the moment reminds me of getting really high, sitting on my bed, and the only way that I could keep myself from puking my guts out was to lean my head against the wall and keep still.

I feel like puking is so normal to me now, that it really doesn't bother me. Usually it's my fault for being dumb. The last 3 times I've taken Ambien I've puked my guts out (one of those times I puked twice, and two of those times involved Peeps, maybe there's a connection there). I remember the first time I had withdrawals, I took Ambien the third night, to finally get to sleep. The next morning I woke up around 6 a.m. and decided that I should just take some oxycodone and stop this bullshit. For the first two hours after taking it, I was totally cool, I had taken it with cranberry juice (which is very acidic). After about 2 and a half hours I'm puking up cranberry juice into a garbage bag. It was so painful, because it was my stomach acids plus the cranberry juice. Besides that time, all the times I've puked, although they have been annoying, have never really bothered me. Mostly because I'm high, so nothing really bothers me. Puking peeps is a weird experience because they are still marshmallowy and soft. I remember, still being very high after puking into a ziploc bag (only thing I could find), and kinda playing with my marshmallow vomit (as I said, I was very high) by squeezing the bag, it was pretty entertaining.

Okay, so enough of this gross puking conversation, I'll just leave you be, hopefully I can come back and say more interesting things when I'm not about to fall off my own bed. = )

For your own viewing pleasure I feel like posting my favorite scene from SLC Punk, because I love that movie... haha, I don't care what people say about it, it is an awesome movie. = )

Some kinda love, Some kinda hate

My tears are so cold. They feel like ice on my cheeks. They keep pouring down, rolling over my cheeks. I have never cried when I am high before. My cotton ears got worse and the tears are still so cold. They keep running. I don't even feel them come out. My nose runs too as I type this. I'm just so worried about my friends and my family, everyone is so depressed. All you can do is sit by and watch them, one by one, each fucking themselves up in their own special way. Ironically, I'm not depressed. They put me on medication in January, and it made me suicidal, so I took myself off of it. I was completely back to normal afterwards. If anything I get stressed a lot, but that's because I'm always thinking everything over. I wonder if getting high keeps me balanced,  I guess that's dumb, but maybe it's the truth. My high is pretty light, it's been slowly fading in, it hasn't sent me on the nod, but i've been focusing on shit, so that's not surprising.

My hands seem so small and weak. I run one set of fingers over the other, barely feeling it. Everything seems really red and my back aches. My arms look pretty tan, days of walking down hot city streets. I remember stabbing the back of my left hand for a vein, feeling the buzzing pain, heating my hand. The veins all rolling away. My needles had really been meant for muscle injections, their fat tip too large to shimmy into the skinny pathways. I scratch my arm, my inner thigh itches. My head itches a lot always, but right now my right arm is slowly getting worse and worse. I hear what sounds like thunder outside. I hope it rains.

Richard and I discuss Anthony. Anthony takes up my thoughts. Everything I do seems like it would be better if Anthony were there, even cooking and shopping, just driving around. I don't know what love is, but I wonder if this is it. It seems like no guy could ever measure up to Anthony. He cares about me, he's smart, he's funny, he's cute. He's my man. = )

It's 2 a.m. the hours seems so long and yet so short. Dry lips. Tired eyes. Muffled ears. My senses feel dull. I watch the TV, people lying, pretending at junkies, they're lying is pretty dead on.

I'm going to sleep. Sleep on the thoughts that invade today.

I Hate People

Last night I was sitting on my bed and I started to just see the needle going into my skin. Slowly slipping in, the flinching pain, and then the release. Blood filling up, blooding flowing out. I remember once, it's actually a pretty funny story, my needle getting clogged. I was annoyed because I was done and I just wanted to get out of the bathroom and lay down. I'm standing over the sink and nothing is coming out. Pressing and pressing, nothing is coming out. I held it up and pointed it towards the mirror trying to see if the blockage was visible. I continued to press (for a reason I can't understand) and it sprayed out. But, because it was pointed up I got in on the ceiling. Now, I'm standing there staring at the ceiling and a shiver runs down my spine, how am I going to clean this up? I clear off everything that was on the counter, and quickly hop on to it. I'm kneeling on the counter and all I can think is, "SHIT!" I lick my finger and rub it on the speckles of blood and suddenly they're gone. I take the rest of the water that I had and rubbed off all the blood on the ceiling on the lights. By that time my fear had caused me to begin to shake so I had to go lie down and calm down. Anyway, to me, that's a funny story, probably because it was me staring at the ceiling thinking, "WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO???"

I just want to get high. I just want to melt into the seams in the bedspread. I don't want to think about fighting, or yelling, I just want to melt into oblivion. I tried to talk to Lauren today about why she pissed me off last night, but she didn't care that she had hurt me. It's so obnoxious. Anthony and I are talking on the phone, I'm crying on the other side, and all he says is, "I wish I could be there and give you a hug." He has to work today and tomorrow, but we may hang out after he gets done tomorrow. I hope we can, I haven't seen him in two weeks, which is really too long.

We're going out on Tuesday to the movies, so at least if I can't see him tomorrow I can see him then. I really want to see that new Brad Pitt movie, "Burn After Reading." It looks so good! I think Anthony wants to see "Pineapple Express" again, which I will have to say no to because that would be the third time I had seen it. The second time was almost unbearable, my friend watched it high the second time and still thought it was long.

I'm getting the sides of my head trimmed down, it's looking weird with my 7" mohawk in the middle. I'm sure the hair stylist will get a kick out of it, I've known him since middle school. Haha, when I was in 7th grade I asked for a hairstyle that would allow me to stick up the middle in a mohawk but leave my hair normal on the sides, he said he couldn't do that. Last year, I did it to myself and it was pretty good, but my new mohawk is really awesome. I'm going to wait to reshave it, even though my hair grows back faster than most people. 

Well, I'm off to get my hair done! = )