The last few days have been quite sobering. The food poisoning was lots of fun. They say that the brightest stars shine the shortest amount of time. This was a huge star. I got a hold of something really nasty from the mall early in the day. It was some kind of spicy chicken with a side order of gut-rot. I made it through most of my day just fine then I went out for a few drinks. I had a beer a shot I felt like and went back to a friends house. At around 3am I stood up and made a mad dash for the bathroom. I felt like such an ass, you can't just come in to someone's home and paint their bathroom walls a sorta red chickeny color. I felt ashamed. What could be ruder than going over to someones house blowing chunks all over the place? I know it wasn't the beer because I drank five times that a couple of night earlier. I cleaned it all up though, and I felt a bit better. So I sat down and watched some crazy cartoon called Invader Zim.There was some seriously messed up stuff in that cartoon.I couldn't believe what I was seeing, I'm pretty sure at some point I was hallucinating but it was still a highly entertaining cartoon.
I left my friend's apartment and started my walk back home. It's only about 5 or 6 blocks back to my place but somehow it manages to stretch out for miles. I could feel fiery little droplets slide down my icy skin and I could feel my muscles go into a full body clench. There's no way I was working up a sweat like that just by walking. I made it home safe but not sound. I pealed off a soaking wet t-shirt and crawled to the computer to check my e-mail (I have my priorities) I remember chatting briefly with my ex; she said that she had a rough day. I don't like getting in pissing contests with her about 'rough days' because she usually wins, so I didn't mention being sick, to be honest I thought I would be fine in the morning. She said she was going to get some sleep and so did I. Boy, was I wrong.
Without going into too much detail, let me just say that I spent at least 10 minutes of every hour in my bathroom. This goes on for about 26 hours. At some point I started whining, it was that low groaning sound that comes from someone who can feel the poisons trying to force their way out. I remember asking myself 'Why are you whining, there's no one to hear you?' I was right, what good could it possibly do to sit a moan. So I stopped, it didn't really help but I felt a little smarter for having done it. It's all kind of blurry for a while and the next thing I see is the alarm clock. It's around noon, I'm lying their in a pool of sweat and I know I have to call work and let them know I'm not coming in. I remember calling in but I don't remember what I said, what ever it was, I'm sure it was convincing.
I recall walking back and forth from my bed to the bathroom. It's not far to walk, it's studio, but that takes me in front of a big window that looks out over Hawthorne Blvd. A big window that I opened the night before to get some fresh air. So there I was, stumbling, sick, and not caring that my fuzzy ass was on display for the general public. Around midnight I started to come back to reality.
My body felt raw. Each individual pore felt like a tiny cigarette burn.I can almost picture them up close like billions of little smoking volcanos. I imagine it's because so much crap has been forced through them. I draw a bath in hopes to quench the burning and it works for the most part. As long as I kept myself completely submerged everthing felt fine. Afterward I sat down with some crackers and ginger ale. I knew that the worst was over so I finally got some decent rest.
My body seems to think it needs back the water that it worked so hard to spit out, so I've started the hydration thing and I'm happy to say I that I'm just as fucked up as I ever was but my body is happy again.
I left my friend's apartment and started my walk back home. It's only about 5 or 6 blocks back to my place but somehow it manages to stretch out for miles. I could feel fiery little droplets slide down my icy skin and I could feel my muscles go into a full body clench. There's no way I was working up a sweat like that just by walking. I made it home safe but not sound. I pealed off a soaking wet t-shirt and crawled to the computer to check my e-mail (I have my priorities) I remember chatting briefly with my ex; she said that she had a rough day. I don't like getting in pissing contests with her about 'rough days' because she usually wins, so I didn't mention being sick, to be honest I thought I would be fine in the morning. She said she was going to get some sleep and so did I. Boy, was I wrong.
Without going into too much detail, let me just say that I spent at least 10 minutes of every hour in my bathroom. This goes on for about 26 hours. At some point I started whining, it was that low groaning sound that comes from someone who can feel the poisons trying to force their way out. I remember asking myself 'Why are you whining, there's no one to hear you?' I was right, what good could it possibly do to sit a moan. So I stopped, it didn't really help but I felt a little smarter for having done it. It's all kind of blurry for a while and the next thing I see is the alarm clock. It's around noon, I'm lying their in a pool of sweat and I know I have to call work and let them know I'm not coming in. I remember calling in but I don't remember what I said, what ever it was, I'm sure it was convincing.
I recall walking back and forth from my bed to the bathroom. It's not far to walk, it's studio, but that takes me in front of a big window that looks out over Hawthorne Blvd. A big window that I opened the night before to get some fresh air. So there I was, stumbling, sick, and not caring that my fuzzy ass was on display for the general public. Around midnight I started to come back to reality.
My body felt raw. Each individual pore felt like a tiny cigarette burn.I can almost picture them up close like billions of little smoking volcanos. I imagine it's because so much crap has been forced through them. I draw a bath in hopes to quench the burning and it works for the most part. As long as I kept myself completely submerged everthing felt fine. Afterward I sat down with some crackers and ginger ale. I knew that the worst was over so I finally got some decent rest.
My body seems to think it needs back the water that it worked so hard to spit out, so I've started the hydration thing and I'm happy to say I that I'm just as fucked up as I ever was but my body is happy again.