It's a great day!

I'm listening to the Stiff Little Fingers and I have just again realized how classic they are. "Wasted Life" is probably one of my favorite songs. Haha, it's the kinda song that I used to listen to walking into school when I was pissed off. One of those mornings when I wished someone would just pick a fight with me so that I could just hit something, anything. But today is a very happy day.

Last night I went out to dinner with two friends and a girl I'm aquatinted with. We went to this Japanese restaurant that I've been going to since I was a little kid. In fact, when my family would come in they knew us, and I think they may have recognized me last night (I have a mohawk now, but before I had shoulder length hair.) (BTW, I feel so good right now... hmm... I wonder why... ;-) The only problem with the restaurant is that it is soooo expensive. For me just getting miso soup and chicken sukiyaki with a ginger ale was at least $18. Our entire tab came out to $93, but I had a coupon so it ended up being $83. I just put in my $20 cause that's all I had, but my friend Helen was really nice and put in a $20 and the extra money and paid the tip (she only gave them like $5 cause they ignored us mostly, but I can't blame them really). Then my friends decided to go to the movies and see Dark Knight for the 3rd time (I had only seen it once before, so my 2nd time). It was waaaaay too long this time. I could barley contain myself, I was like shaking, I had to get out of there. Mid-way through my boyfriend's sister texts me asking if he is with me. I tell her that he's not. She then proceeds to curse me out and tell me that I'm ruining her brother's life and all this other bullshit. I figure that the best thing to do is to be polite and not say anything back to that. His family hates me, mostly because he doesn't tell them where he's going when he hangs out with me (that's really not my fault). To me it just seems so juvenile, this girl cursing me out who doesn't know me through text messages. I think the reason she doesn't want him to hang with me is because his family is being really nasty to him due to him hanging with me. I think it's just causing internal family drama. I don't really know what to do, so I guess I'll just see what happens. Anyway, I got home, watched Craig Ferguson, who I love. The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson is one of my favorite TV shows, I just think he's so funny. I love his monologues. Also, my pension for getting high at night means that I'm up from 12:37 to 1:37 (yes, it starts at exactly 12:37, weird isn't it?). It was a good night over all, but all of that drama was just too much for me to deal with.

The funny thing about his sister is that she runs in a crowd which I would describe as the "rehab group." The rehab group are people who have all been in rehab (usually out-patient) starting in high school because their parents or the school has caught them doing drugs. They enjoy discussing their drug use because they think it makes them cool. On a whole, I hate basically everyone in that group. They annoy the shit out of me, they are usually over-dramatic and believe that they are such badasses for being in rehab. I have a friend of mine who is in this group, besides annoying me to no end with her discussion of her own drug use (she was talking about using codeine and not eating for 3 days, and I started to laugh at her... everyone looked at me, because they were taking this very seriously, I mean, come on). She also attempts to convince us into giving her our urine (which no one ever does whose friends with me, we all think she should get into in-patient mostly because she is just rotting away her brain cells on multiple levels, though I think she stopped using opiates, also no one wants to pee into a cup on their lunch break). 

The girl who came to dinner with me is friends with a lot of these people, her name is Victoria. My best friend Lauren called her a "wannabe druggy." I believe that has to be the saddest thing I have ever heard. If your goal is to be someone who relies on drugs to feel good (or better, or whatever you want to say) that's pretty sad (and a pretty do-able goal). She's nice, has no brain, but she's nice. She also thinks I'm funny (haha, the only one I think). That wannabe side didn't come out at dinner, she just seemed like a normal, nice girl.

On August 29th I think I'm going to see the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the movie theatre. My friend Richard and I are pretty psyched. I've never seen it before, but my friend told me that I better watch the movie before I go, so I think I'm going to watch it today. Today is going to be a good day, I can already feel it!

Today was the future yesterday

TODAY:
I met Ned at the subway and we walked over to a diner on Bleeker. He was nice enough to buy me lunch: pancakes, sausage, and coffee. I asked about going over to Tompkins Square Park, he looked at me, a bit puzzled: "Why would you wanna go there? It's full on sketchy." I smiled and said: "Well, I've never been there and I want to see it." He accepted that and said that maybe we could go there tomorrow. It's a walk a bit farther than we want to travel.

We walked over to class and slowly I felt my back becoming drenched in sweat. It's the same as every other day. The farther we walk the more soaked my back becomes. We bump fists and go to separate classes. I sit in class and stare at the board, my professor has a particularly funny example of a baby genius: illustrated by a baby with an grey wig and a moustache. It's an entertaining classes. I ask him if he will give me a recommendation for college, he says that I will have to wait and see until after class is over, but he says that the paper I gave him was good. I smile. I walk out and I pull my fist down in moment of triumph.

I hit the street and Ned and I slouch back towards the subway. We fist bump again and I wander back home. It was a good day.

My mother just walked in and warned me about drinking coffee everyday: "... because if you don't drink it one day, you'll get bad headaches. I mean really bad headaches." Good advice.

YESTERDAY:

I baked her that cake for her birthday, it actually tasted pretty good... I know it's not the most impressive cake decoration, but I tried hard. I think she really liked it. I gave her a Kitchenaide stand mixer, so I used it to bake the cake. It's a white supreme cake with dark chocolate fudge frosting. We only had 6 candles in the house, so I put them all on.

SATURDAY:

Anthony and I did go see the Dark Knight, which was pretty good. I don't know if I am as enamored with it as everyone else is, but I did enjoy it. We were bored afterwards and so he came over and we watched the first half of Trainspotting. I was driving him back to his house afterwards and he turns to me and says, "Do you think heroin smells bad?" I just said, "I'm sure it doesn't, or, at least, not any worse than most things."

Pisces

We got home late. Ned had gone home half an hour earlier and now it was the four of us. Tanzen, Rosie, Kendra, and I. We sat around Tanzen and Rosie's kitchen table. Kendra was trying to make an anagram out of my full name. Every few minutes she would tell me another word and we would attempt to put together a fragment. Tanzen drank a Corona and had some more vodka. I didn't realize that most vodka is only 80 proof. I thought that it was more. Tanzen and I had split her flask of it, each getting about 2.5 shots in a bottle of cranberry juice. I chugged mine to minimize the taste as we sat in the park watching the play. Now back at her house she sits and drinks the Corona, though I think it's unnecessary and dumb. 

We discussed our zodiac signs. My sun and moon are both in Pisces, also this is the age of Pisces. My ascendant is Gemini, Venus is in Aires, Mercury is in Aires, and I think that Gemini is in Mars (but I could be wrong). Pisces are prone to drug and alcohol problems, I joked that that's all Tanzen and I needed. It was meant as a joke. It was supposed to be ignored.

Tanzen (my friend, who I talked about in "ping-pong") turned and said, "Well, you've already had one. So maybe you'll learn and it won't happen again." She was serious. Dead serious. I shuttered internally. I've only told Tanzen about It. Kendra stops writing, "Wait. What?" 

I ignored it. I pretended that there had been nothing said. 

Tanzen does not understand. She has no clue. There is a difference between her reality and mine. She doesn't understand that you can't tell people about these kind of things. She tells people that she wants to try heroin, I told her that people won't understand and that she shouldn't. I've told her it's different for people like her and I, we have a different view. My life is secrets, I know that, but she doesn't. I want to tell her, but I don't. I want her to understand that you can't say those kind of things. I feel embarrassed. Drugs are embarrassing. The A-word is embarrassing.

I swallowed that hit that I had been saving and got two more for later. I feel pretty good. I feel it in a good way. In a great way. I think I'm going to watch some Trainspotting and forget. I want to forget myself. I want to forget you.

Cogito ergo sum.

Craig Ferguson is on right now. He's good. He's so good. Haha, I enjoy it more than most shows. Tomorrow I'm going to my friends house. It'll be good. I'll spend the night. And I'll be happy.

I'm not looking forward to class tomorrow. This writing workshop is kick my ass. We're workshopping my essay tomorrow, so I'm a bit afraid of what they will say and I really just don't care. Philosophy will be fun as always. I'll probably say something dumb like, "It sounds like there's a party in my soul." Haha, I really think I'm going to major in philosophy. That's not surprising at all.

I bought a used Velvet Underground album today. It's blue. It's pretty. Haha, I haven't listened to it yet, but I'm pretty psyched. Vinyl is nice. Vinyl is so solid, you know that it's real. You can't deny that it exists because you can hold it in your hands.

It's a mental twist

It's been bad for the past week or so. Extra bad. The kind of things that you read about in books but you don't get to experience first hand. Unless you're a junky. It's funny but a lot of the time I smell things that remind me of shooting up. That's the weird part, you can't predict it. I can't tell you what's going to make me want to get high, but when it happens it hits home. I haven't taken a shot since January. Not that I didn't try. My works are all busted up and kinda gross, and the scar tissue on my arm with the good vein is really painful and makes it even harder. I think that the farther you get away from doing it, the more you romance it. You don't think about stabbing and stabbing and stabbing your arm, you just think about the high afterwards. The biggest problem with people who haven't tried opiates is that they romance it. They think of Trainspotting or something other movie and they think, "wow, those guys seem so cool. I could be like them..." But there's no reality in that, not that there is much reality in anything.

I have gear but I keep not using it, which is weird in itself. You'd assume that if my mind was focusing on getting high all day for a week I would just use it, but I can't seem to. It's this whole thing where if I use I won't have any more and I'm afraid of that. I keep saying that I won't use, but I say, "On thursday I will." Then thursday rolls around, "On saturday I will." I keep pushing it back, but I guess that's a good thing. Or something. I really want to, I'm just afraid of not having any gear.

Another weird thing is that I haven't really been thinking about shooting up until last week. You see, I usually just snort it, or swallow a pill, mostly because of my problems with my arm. But this week I just kept thinking about it. I just kept picturing the spoon and watching everything kinda swirl and the cotton and watching it become empty. I see needles and I want to puke. I want it. That's all I want. I want it so bad.

If you wanna hear a good song, which makes me chuckle: "Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth" by the Dandy Warhols. I just kept listening to it on the train today over and over.

Cravings

At the moment I want it. I want it really bad. It's not the average kind of desire, but a need that lives in the pit of your stomach. It started this morning, I woke up and was asked how I felt, and at that moment I knew that I wanted. So, I said, "Shit." I waited listening, for each stair to be hit, for the door to be closed, for silence to envelope the house. I got up, feeling nauseous, but I could do it. I opened the cabinet and grabbed my hit, an extra for good look. As I walked into the bathroom and looked at my hand I smiled. Toothy and young, naive? No, not then, never have been, not since August. I swallowed it down with water and I grabbed my computer, a bowl of cereal, looking around the web, feeling, ok, allowing my head to feel heavy, to feel thick, like someone had weighted it. The thought makes me want it more, right now, if I could I would steal it, I would sell anything for it, for a lifetime of that feeling. Fuck. Fuck? You mean fucked up? Well, maybe, but I'm young, too young. Or something like that? As, I walked into the den, I began to put on a DVD, I had moved too much and now knew what would happen. I squeezed the trashcan between my knees and exhaled, inhale, exhale. Deep breaths, moved my hair behind my ears. I studied the rotting banana at the bottom and I gave back the "Wheat Chexs" that I had eaten only a few hours earlier. I guess you might understand? Do you understand? I wasn't like this a year ago, or was I? Is this dormant? Have I always been fucked up? I don't want to be, I want to be free. I want to be happy, or something like that? Right? Maybe not, for a while I thought that a needle exchange down the street would be pretty cozy, haha, but not now. I quit that game. But scars don't quit. Mental, physical, it's all the same game, some just seem more apparent to passersby. They're both real though, more real than you can see, and sometimes when I the mental scars bleed the physical ones repeat it, as a reminder, a hint at what you once did. What I once did. So, guess what I'm doing, maybe you'll get a prize? Probably not, but at least you'll feel special, and isn't that what we all want.