this toke’s for you
hey there hi there ho there.
that stomach is rocking 3 pints. i couldn’t do my food journal when i got home last nite cos the internet was down. then i laid on the couch with melodie and half-dozed while they watched red. i saw this movie. i have no idea where i saw it or with whom. dad did we rent it? no it was in theatres. so it was maybe the drive in? ugh thanks marijuana. take a bow.
had the trout. it was nice and light. for starter i had a duck salad. it was crap.
we went on an adventure. sometimes casie and i share a brain. yesterday was kind of a hilarious day.
pbc convinced me to dress up. i felt like a fucking idiot walking down my driveway and seeing my totally under-dressed lunch date sitting in his car meanwhile my toes are frozen in my funeral shoes in fact, i’m wearing black head to toe, total funeral outfit. oh well it’s always better to dress up, dress for the position in society you want to be not what you are. so i guess i should dress like hello kitty then. i think i made that joke here before. sorry about that.
i emailed tucker max. i bet he won’t write back. i’ll give it a few more days before i broadcast my rejected pick-up email. this book is so hilarious and he reminds me of an ex-friend and because of all his black out mug shots i want to figure out how to get mine. yes fans, your hero spent a night in the drunk tank in los angeles the one in manhattan beach i just googled it and looked at pictures oh man. merkley wears his mug shot on a t-shirt i’ll have to ask him how to track mine down. i look like wynona ryder in a psychosis in it. flaming coupe bizarre red hair and dilated pupils aaaalright who wants to associate with my brand now, guy. i’m sure one day i’ll be famous enough that it’ll just get leaked on its own. then i can hang with nick nolte. or vince vaughn mmm yummy.
you haven’t made it until you have a mug shot in my opinion. (kids don’t try this at home).
me in that sweater there and my psychiatrist’s gay steven segal wall tapestry. i told him that basically the only problems i have in life are real world adult problems. i griped about every single one and thing i could think of. i also told him it was very embarrassing showing up a day early in bright red pants. i see my guy at CAMH where all the crazies go for free crazy group therapy, they also do drug addiction, booze and anxiety. i got in because i have a lovely laundry list of mental foibles in my past. i am a total advocate for therapy in general and in other countries/cultures they consider you a total idiot if you don’t go to regular therapy sessions but anyway, my guy knows i’m a-ok, i rarely see him, only for chill pill scripts (anxiety) which i never even fill (i have a collection of them) and i think we’re even at the point where he should stop counseling me and suggest treatment or other therapy i dunno, that’s how the system works i gather, like, i’m not mental, i can function and go about life and more or less be a businessy-together work capable human but there is something borderline totally inadequate about me i feel and i might be a candidate for some kind of breakdown maybe perhaps (not likely i think cos i’ve already gone through it and i’m pretty a-type where i must keep it together which is very british of me and vital) but because i drink a lot this is why i keep seeing my doctor. i told him if in the next two months i don’t severely get my act together and move on to bigger and better things (accomplish projects, which requires a lot less drinking and late nights) then i am going to do something drastic and punish myself. it’s just unacceptable personally how much i have slacked off on multiple things (despite accomplishing fantastic and copious amounts of other things). i spread myself so thin but i’m too cheap to hire someone to work for me. yes i am a business woman, yes i make money off this blog yes i am not playing make believe. i said to my shrink that he is basically just a career counselor to me now. i said if i wasn’t a creative type i’d be on time for shit, people like me in the world are late because they’re chasing rainbows and other whimsical shit so guys like you can sit on your arse in cubicles commenting on our finger paintings and such.
i learned the other night that a lot of people in my past (not naming any names or groups of whatever subset of people you think i am referring to) and distant present (haha whatever that means) are equally as lost and stressed out feeling. i think everyone is kind of strung out in january. you feel the pressure of life during these trying alaskan-climate times. i just assumed everybody had a better life than me or was thriving more and it was kind of a relief to see that i am not the only person suffering.
today at lunch i was fascinated by all the haves. this table of four men in their white tennis clothing, having pints, two women at their table all discussing the co-ordination of tomorrow morning’s ride to the airport for their holiday. then another man joined them who looked about 80 years old with a ralph lauren baseball hat plopped on his head like it ain’t no thing and a glass of red wine. what a life.
yesterday in yorkville seeing all the stressed out money faces and furs and plastic surgery and the desperation and the entitlement super affected me. i realized why my blogging style of writing at the time when i lived in the neighbourhood was so bitter and caustic. i was so stressed out to exist in that world yet shun it and rise above. ugh. i was happy and i was not. i blogged three times a day about laundry and a cat that hated me and fielded so much abuse from strangers on the internet about how much of a cunt i was. my blog thrived because i was a shut in and it was the only attention i really got.
i asked a girl, a girl woman, a kept woman, for directions to a place i received a tip about. yorkville is so condensed you can walk by 5 boutiques in 5 steps so it’s hard to find new places i guess. this woman was exceptionally nice so willing to offer help and even asked if the place was any good that i was off to. i could tell she was lonely and like all happenings i ever encounter i over-analyzed that exchange and took that yeah, she was nice because someone picked her out. you feel special when a stranger makes you an authority on something. you are surrounded by so many people in this city but you can easily feel super isolated within it.
meanwhile a national post notable was waiting to take a piss by the bathroom. i was reading my a-holes finish first and checking out every single thing that moved by the window. i might go back another afternoon and sit in the coffee shop by sassafraz all day long and wait for a husband.
when i walked in to starbucks these two younger than me (but not skinnier) platinum girls (pretty though and rich) totally looked me up and down. we did the we all have platinum hair acknowledgment like how motorcycle riders churchill style peace sign each other in-passing, except platinum acknowledgment when one party has roots and the other doesn’t involves mega eyeballs crawling all over your head in a vicious way. guess which one of us had roots.
came up with a book title for my own i hope they serve beer in hell style memoir (kills, lays, notches) it’s called RAYMEN. raymi’s men. get it? just kidding. (we’ll see if you make the cut).
bingo bango bongo bye,
I’LL SEXT YA LATER! i mean, see you later.