04 July 2000 ~ Helena contemplates Stephen Stills, a straight-edge lifestyle, and the Prime Minister...

Dear Diane,

10.35 AM, Independence Day, 2000. I'm at work and I think I'm about to die. I'm writing you to stay awake and alive. Was re-reading the autobiography of Agent Dale B. Cooper earlier, which didn't seem to help my hangover much.

Believe tonight my journal entry may either be a reprint of last year's Independence Day entry, or an account of my first cup of Starbucks' coffee in New Jersey and the events surrounding it. Either subject ought to make people laugh. If I survive to go home to my computer this evening, I will want to make people laugh. At THIS moment, I want to make people start gushing blood and screaming, but I think that by this evening -- supposing I make it -- my alcohol-and-sleep-deprivation-induced shitty mood will have dissolved into happy sunshine. Or something.

Diane, I am now holding in my hand the self-titled album by Stephen Stills, examining with some interest the title of a song that goes, "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." Have decided that this is not applicable to my life. Rather, I have decided that this SHOULDN'T be applicable to my life. Have been contemplating this all morning, and have concluded that no variation of unrequited love or related complication justifies being a slut.

Have also concluded that I must do a little bit more thinking on the subject when I'm not hungover.

...And that even supposing that Mister Stephen Stills was onto something, it would still be wise to carefully SELECT the people you ARE with...

Will do a bit of meditation on the subject sometime when I'm in a better frame of mind. Will do a bit of meditation on the entire subject of sex and relationships sometime, preferably rather soon, as I believe I've made some choices that are seriously going to fuck up my mental state.

Have also decided to return to my semi-attempt at being straight-edge. Tequila Rose is fun and all, but...

Diane, I have to go pretend to do some work now. Will report back later if I haven't succumbed to my injuries.

~H.T.*

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hi. Um... yeah. Don't ask, okay?

I've decided to be better about drinking. I haven't decided anything else conclusively, but I have decided I need to not get trashed so easily and so willingly. The least of my concerns last night was accidentally getting lost in a public bathroom at Aaron's place of business, and banging on a wall for help, then stumbling out and nearly falling on my face.

Tomorrow, I think I'll tell the Starbucks'/New Jersey story...

For now, I'll leave you with a reprint of my entry from last year, "God save the Prime Minister...," which is one of my favorite entries ever. And now, roughly 48 hours since the last time I slept, I'm going to bed. Goodnight. ~Helena*

* * * * * * * * * * *

God save the prime minister...

The following is a little conversation I just had with my brother John, who is 13 years old and as fucking weird as they come... Keep this in mind: when I made him watch five minutes of the last British royal wedding (it was on the news for chrissake -- I didn't think it would kill him to watch the news...), he kept referring to the Queen Mother as "the old purple lady..."

My brother: "Are British people, like, mean? 'Cause I heard they're mean..."

Me: "No. If they're mean, it's probably because Americans are dumb and are just asking for other countries to be mean to us..."

Him: "Why?"

Me: "Well... Can you tell me the name of the prime minister in England?"

Him: "No."

Me: "See. You're an ignorant American."

Him: "Oh. What's a prime minister?"

Me: "It's like, um... a president, you know?"

Him: "Oh. I thought it was like... A Pope dude."

Me: "No! They're not like... like regular ministers! They're like presidents. They're not religious guys..."

Him: "Oh. Do we have one?"

Me: "We don't need one? What would we do with one?"

Him: "Put him in a church!"

Me: "He's NOT a Pope dude!"

Him: "Oh."

(five minute pause...)

Him: "Do priests have pets? Because they're not allowed to have sex and stuff..."

Me: "So what - they're going to have sex with their pets?"

Him: "Yeah! Maybe! They've got to have a horse or a sheep or something!"

Me: "Um... I guess so... I don't really know if they have pets... And the prime minister is NOT a Pope dude..."

Him: "I saw this one movie with a prime minister in it. He had a backpack and he went around blowing up people..."

Me: "Uh..."

Him: "...But they caught him and there was no scandal, just this big Communist party and stuff..."

Me: "Uh..."

Him: "Yeah! And other countries have prime ministers too, right? Because I saw on TV where all the prime ministers in the world get together in this big round room and have an orgy! It's round so that they can all see each other...!"

Me: John, go to fucking SLEEP!"

(Him, reading over my shoulder as I type this: "I don't want to fuck a sheep!" Me: "SLEEP! Not SHEEP!")

(five minute pause...)

Him: "Aren't Chinese people Buddhists? I swear they're Buddhists... They worship those little water statues... Don't Chinese people drink their pee?"

Me: "WHAT?"

Him: "I swear they drink their pee!"

Me: "No! They do NOT drink their pee! Well... okay, I guess maybe SOME of them do, but I'm sure a fair amount of Americans do too..."

Him: "Because Penny always sings that one song... You know! 'Me Chinese, Me play joke, Me put pee-pee in your Coke...'!"

Me: "Sure, John. All Chinese people drink pee... All of them."

Him: "And Laotians?"

Me: "Sure, and Laotians. I think everybody drinks pee..."

Him: "Oh. Okay."

He is now wrapping a towel around his head (a big white one that says "Zestfully Clean" on it in huge fluorescent letters) in a rather vain attempt to be Tibetan and have a turban... "Like that guy on Johnny Quest," he says... Uh...

My fellow countrymen, on this, the day before Independence Day, at one in the morning, as my young sibling ties himself up in a bath towel trying to be multicultural, I would just like to hum a few bars of "Born in the U.S.A." and say this: Gahd, I love America...

Love,
~Helena*