April 4, 2009

Two days ago, as I walked home from errands in the sunshine, I felt really good.  Like “I don’t need chemical interference!  Things are looking  up! Maybe I’ll do some work!”

I was wrong.  On all counts.

I quit taking rhymes-with-Mexico on Tuesday, and I think it’s out of my system now, and although I’m glad that my GI tract is more-or-less back to normal, I don’t like where my head is at.  I’ve been avoiding people again, staying in the apartment for absurd stretches of time, not writing,  sleeping a lot.  In other words: I’ve been here before, and it sucks giant mutant alien buttsores.

I’m calling the doc on Monday, and will probably end up with rhymes-with-smell-shoe-chin.    After that?  I dunno:  cocaine?  poppers?  glue?  If it doesn’t make me feel better, at least it’ll help me pass the time.

Orange Cat has eye problems.  Going to see his doc on Monday afternoon.  If it’s crazy expensive (and when isn’t it?), the sloth-trip will necessarily be put off.


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