My journal entries have degraded into mediocre "blogging" tripe. I'm too sick to care.
My birthday was A day... it happened, Twenty-three times I have survived a trip around the sun... hoozah! Seek drinks and rejoice aloud for my inability to destroy myself.
I climbed a fake wall of rock... or rather, I didn't climb the wall but made my sad attempt at it. The bench to the wall was lousy with 8 year olds that zipped up the wall like gravity resistant monkey people. This old man fell off 10 feet from the top when my arthritis spoke up, yelling from my wrist... down my nerves... and into that part of the brain that says "hang on for you are hanging at a fatal height above the ground"... it became confused and I let go. My friend (a 21 year old girl) proceeded to jostle her way through earthward pull and get to the top... while I stood at the bottom holding her purse. I am some sorry genre of bitch. We then went to a petting zoo. Then another friend took me on a shoe shopping crusade and filled my stomach with fudge-filled, ice-cream-adorned cake joy.
Last night my self-destructive tendencies clothed me like a fresh Earth-brought Venom and I drank three (THREE!) bottles of wine... in an hour. My ex-band was playing, but I do not know what or by what means... I don't remember much. I puked in a car while afraid that I was dying. I puked in a bathroom and covered it's toilet, wall, and floor hardily in wine-spew. Waking this morning was a mistake. I spent the day spooning a toilet and screaming loudly and untidily into it 's big open face. I'm dumber than most, it's a wonder that I'm not brain-dead by now.
Thank you lauraelizabeth81 for allowing me to puke on and in your car, in your bathroom, and put up with my whining and moaning all day. You're a lovely lady.
That is all for now. I promise that my next journal will be a return to the codswallop that I usually post. Less me, more tangential hoo ha.
My birthday was A day... it happened, Twenty-three times I have survived a trip around the sun... hoozah! Seek drinks and rejoice aloud for my inability to destroy myself.
I climbed a fake wall of rock... or rather, I didn't climb the wall but made my sad attempt at it. The bench to the wall was lousy with 8 year olds that zipped up the wall like gravity resistant monkey people. This old man fell off 10 feet from the top when my arthritis spoke up, yelling from my wrist... down my nerves... and into that part of the brain that says "hang on for you are hanging at a fatal height above the ground"... it became confused and I let go. My friend (a 21 year old girl) proceeded to jostle her way through earthward pull and get to the top... while I stood at the bottom holding her purse. I am some sorry genre of bitch. We then went to a petting zoo. Then another friend took me on a shoe shopping crusade and filled my stomach with fudge-filled, ice-cream-adorned cake joy.
Last night my self-destructive tendencies clothed me like a fresh Earth-brought Venom and I drank three (THREE!) bottles of wine... in an hour. My ex-band was playing, but I do not know what or by what means... I don't remember much. I puked in a car while afraid that I was dying. I puked in a bathroom and covered it's toilet, wall, and floor hardily in wine-spew. Waking this morning was a mistake. I spent the day spooning a toilet and screaming loudly and untidily into it 's big open face. I'm dumber than most, it's a wonder that I'm not brain-dead by now.
Thank you lauraelizabeth81 for allowing me to puke on and in your car, in your bathroom, and put up with my whining and moaning all day. You're a lovely lady.
That is all for now. I promise that my next journal will be a return to the codswallop that I usually post. Less me, more tangential hoo ha.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
anabel:
i really want to read CASH...it's next on my list....
lizbet:
hey, thanks for your comment yesterday. It really helped me out.