19 March 2001 ~ I wanna be a junkie when I grow up...

Today, I spoke French.

Today, I told the entire story of the Santa Fe Starbucks and the invisible wild desert antelopes in less than fifteen seconds.

Today, I think I saw the Lord Almighty hanging out on Washington Street. He looked like Alanis Morrisette.

Today, Helena had WAY too much coffee.

I've decided I like too much coffee -- at least until the stomach cramps hit. It's all downhill from there. I firmly intend to rummage back through my "don't do drugs" health notes from 11th grade in search of a stimulant that doesn't have that nasty stomach-pain side effect, at which point I will call some people, get a hook-up, and immediately become a junkie, at which point I will move to North Street and spend my days happily enjoying the company of bad musicians and learning to like Big Bear.

Perhaps not.

It's been a strange day. I haven't fucked myself up in a very long time, at least not to this extent. Now, the effects are gone: I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm dehydrated, I have a killer headache, and I want to kick someone. And I'm inexplicably horny. Ohhhh, I'm never going to do this again...

"Got anything for a hangover, Annie?"
"Teetotaling and prayer."
--Harry and Annie, "Twin Peaks"

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Earlier, I watched a horrendous Lifetime movie about a 16-year-old girl who sleeps with her mother's hot young boyfriend. At first, it really sort of amused me. Then it sort of pissed me off. Seriously, this was a movie about how to utterly ruin a teen-age girl's life. I was shocked that the little chicklet didn't try to slit her wrists. I decided that her lack of suicidal tendencies was probably due to a bad screenplay and a complete lack of understanding about the mind of a young girl.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ohhhh, I feel like hell...

I'm going to cut this journal entry short and start doing my research on recreational substances that don't make one's stomach hurt...

~Helena*